Shamballa Part 3 The Philosopher's Stone
by Beregond5
Summary: The Elric Brothers and Beregond are reunited to search for the Philosopher's Stone. But they also find themselves entagled in a dangerous that keeps closing all around them.
1. Brothers' Debt

_A/n: Heavily influenced by the manga and and 2003 anime. Special thanks go to Junodog for all her help. :)_

* * *

The great tit turned over another leaf and instantly jabbed its beak on the ground to catch the small insect underneath. Snapping its beak in delight and shuddering slightly in order to ruffle its plumage, the bird then started checking its surroundings warily. But, so far, the park was peaceful and there didn't seem to be any danger lurking about.

It was then that the noise of crackling leaves was heard and two large people approached. Beating its wings rapidly, the tit immediately flew in the safety of a nearby tree.

However, there was no reason for alarm after all. A soft voice that echoed times that seemed to have always been a part of the small bird made it fly toward the smaller of the two people and land on his hand. Another hand, the bigger person's, stroked its head, a gesture that made the bird half-close its eyes dreamily.

"Hold out your hand, Alphonse."

The bigger person did just that. The tit found itself nestled comfortably in a much bigger palm, the petting not lessening in the least.

"Thank you." The voice was young and almost happy.

"You're welcome," answered the ancient voice, the smile that echoed in the words soon dying out to be replaced by concern. "Now… can you please tell me what's wrong?"

The bigger person gasped, obviously surprised that the other one had read him so easily. But then he sighed and started talking, all the while holding the little bird in his palm and petting it.

* * *

_Memories are only data. An alchemist like you can easily implant fake memories, isn't that right? Brother, there was something you started to ask me but you stopped. So let me make it easier for you: were you trying to tell me that my soul and memories were something fake that you created? _

_Is that what you wanted to say all this time? Is that all you have to say?_

_Just answer my question, Brother! Why won't you say anything?! Why?!_

_Al, please…_

_DON'T COME NEAR ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!_

_AL, NO! ALPHONSE!_

Ed closed his eyes, trying to shut out the terrible memory, but his mind kept replaying Al's words over and over. And the only thing he could think as he still lay on his side in the bed of the hospital room was:

_Why, Al?_

But Al wasn't there to answer him, and Ed couldn't find an answer for himself. Because, for the first time after many years, Ed finally felt that there was no point in it. His brother, his primary, main motivation and purpose to find the Philosopher's Stone so to finally atone for the hurt he caused, was gone, feeling nothing but hatred for his older brother.

If Ed didn't feel so drained, his tears would be shed right there and then. In his condition, he just curled into a small, trembling ball, all feelings of pain because of his injury forgotten – or rather, no longer mattering. He certainly didn't notice a pair of cobalt-coloured eyes looking at him through the half-open door. And he certainly didn't hear the soft click of the said door as it was slowly closed shut.

* * *

After finally daring a peek inside Ed's room, Winry closed the door carefully so as not to make any noise; then faced 2nd Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Bloch.

"How is he?" Bloch asked, clearly concerned.

"Not good," Winry said with a shake of her head. "We have to find Al."

"I'll call Major Armstrong," Ross said. "He needs to be notified about this."

"But what about Al? By the time any other soldiers start searching he will be long gone! We are the ones who should go after him!"

"Miss Rockbell, I'm afraid that is not possible. We've been given strict orders not to leave this hospital until Edward is strong enough to be discharged, and that's that," Ross answered, keeping her voice neutral.

"You were meant to protect Al too!" Winry exclaimed in exasperation. "And now he's out there, alone and hating Edward for something he never did!"

"Miss Rockbell," Ross repeated, more firmly and a bit more meaningfully this time, "_we_ can't do anything else."

Winry's hands clenched into fists as the young girl felt the first surge of tears welling up her eyes. "So that's it? We're just going to sit here and wait?"

"You are not a soldier, Miss Rockbell," Bloch said then.

It was at that moment that Winry realised what it was the two soldiers were trying to tell her. She looked at both of them apprehensively, not daring to hope. Nevertheless, she was already feeling grateful.

"You'd better hurry," Ross said, smiling encouragingly. "And please, be careful."

Winry didn't bother to reply, because she was already running toward the exit. The soldiers just watched her go until she was finally out of their sight.

"Do you think she will be able to find him, Lieutenant Ross?" Bloch asked, facing the woman with an expression of worry.

"I'm afraid she's the only one who can now," Ross answered, sighing. "I'd better go make that phone-call. Meanwhile, go into the room and keep an eye on Edward."

"I doubt it's me that he wants to see," Bloch said ruefully.

"No. But there might be someone else."

And with that, Ross turned on her heel and headed for the phone at the registration desk. Understanding what the lieutenant had in mind and deciding that he'd better do what she told him, Bloch went to Edward's room.

The moment that Bloch opened the door, Ed turned around. "Al?"

"No. Sorry."

With eyes reflecting his disappointment, Ed sighed and turned his back to the sergeant. He didn't move or say anything else again, not even when Bloch sat on a chair nearby, watching him.

Ross frowned. It was taking too long for any reply on the phone, and the woman didn't know what to make of it. The major himself had assured her that he would stay at his home until Sergeant Beregond and 2nd Lieutenant Havoc were taken care of.

There was another beep on the phone. Ross huffed and got ready to hang up, when a woman's voice was heard at the other end of the line. "Hello, you've called the Armstrong residence. May I help you?"

_A maid, most likely,_ Ross figured. After all, she knew perfectly well the major's wealthy background. "This is 2nd Lieutenant Maria Ross. May I speak to Major Alex Louis Armstrong?"

"I'm sorry, but Major Armstrong is otherwise engaged. Would you like to leave a message?"

"I'm afraid it can't wait," Ross said. She paused as she contemplated matters; then another idea formed in her mind. "I'm aware that there are two other soldiers there: a Sergeant Beregond and a 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc. Can I speak to either of them?"

"Let me see if either of them is available," the maid said cordially. The small clicking sound that followed next clearly showed that she had put down the receiver next to the phone to find the two men.

It was then that Ross realised that there were men's voices echoing at some distance. At least two of them sounded calm and collected, but the other was nearly shouting. Ross tried to comprehend any of the words and so understand what was going on.

She didn't manage it. Suddenly, another voice, somewhat weary and strained, sounded through the end of the line.

"This is Lieutenant Jean Havoc."

"This is Lieutenant Maria Ross, Major Armstrong's subordinate and temporary escort of Edward and Alphonse Elric," Ross answered.

"Oh, hello."

"How is your wound?"

"Armstrong already told you about that, huh?" Havoc answered. "I'm pretty much okay. Provided I don't give too much of a strain on myself, the wound will heal soon enough."

"I see," Ross said. There was something odd about the tone that the lieutenant was using. She couldn't pinpoint it precisely, but for some reason it sounded too… informal. "How about Mr. Beregond?"

"Mother, really… why do you want to bother the good doctor? It's just a flesh wound!"

Ross blinked, startled at that. "What?"

_Wait a minute… something isn't right._

"Lieutenant Havoc, just answer with a yes or no. Is there some reason you can't talk openly?"

There was a small pause, and then a very soft: "Yes."

Ross frowned. Things were _definitely_ not right.

"Is there some place where you can talk without being noticed?"

"The place is huge, so I can try. Hang on."

Ross sighed and did just that. There were the occasional voices, now accompanied by the sounds of footsteps to be heard. Still, the only words she managed to grasp were 'orders' and 'court-martial'.

"Okay, this is as far as the phone-cord can go, but I like to think it's far enough," said Havoc, keeping his tone low. "I apologise for the embarrassing position I placed you before, Lieutenant Ross."

"At least can you tell me now what is going on?" the woman asked.

There was another pause for a moment. "Did you hear that commotion?"

"Yes; although I'm not sure who's who."

"One is Major Armstrong, the other Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, and the loud-mouthed one is Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette. He says he has orders to arrest Sergeant Beregond."

Ross' eyes widened slightly. She had heard of Fawcette before as an officer transferred from East City and somewhat of an egomaniac. Nevertheless, she had to hand it to him that he had handled the terrorist case well. "On what charges?"

"That's what I would like to know, and that's what Major Armstrong and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes are trying to find out too. Not that they will have any luck, mind you. I know Fawcette. If it serves his ego not to talk, then he won't say a word."

"But if Sergeant Beregond hasn't done anything wrong—"

"Lieutenant Ross, I've been honest to you from the start because Major Armstrong mentioned you were a trustworthy, honest person. So, please, listen to what I have to say. I've already talked to Armstrong and Hughes about this, and they have reached to the same conclusions."

Maria swallowed hard, feeling that she wouldn't like what she was about to hear. "Go on."

"Look… If there's one thing I've learned from my commanding officer is that sometimes one has to look deeper than the surface of things. And these last couple of days both Beregond and I had to become witnesses to that truth."

"How so?"

"You've heard the news about the so-called 'terrorist group' that was arrested, right?"

_So-called?_ "Yes, but I don't see what that has got to do with anything."

"Lieutenant Ross, it was I and Beregond who had to deal with them, long before Fawcette made the honours of arresting them. What's more, they were no terrorists. They were mercenaries, paid by someone to make sure that there would be trouble in Central. They almost succeeded, too. But instead of trying to find out who could be behind this scheme and why, what does the military do?"

"Searching for Sergeant Beregond," Ross said, understanding where was Havoc going with this.

"Exactly."

"But why?"

"Well, it's true that Fawcette had born a grudge against Beregond from day one, but that hardly justifies his actions now. It has to be something else."

"What does the sergeant say to all that?"

"He's gone. The major and I helped him leave the house without being noticed by Fawcette or his men."

"I see. You're making sure he doesn't get arrested until you find anything that will acquit him."

"Yeah," Havoc said. "But, knowing Beregond, he will head straight to the hospital. That's where Ed and Al are, right?"

"Yes," Ross said, clearing her throat. "About that…"

"What?" Havoc sounded worried now; Ross could hear it only too clearly.

"We have a problem," she answered, and she told him in a few brief words about Al.

"Damn it. Things are turning from bad to worse," Havoc hissed as soon as Ross finished her report. There was a pause for many long moments as he thought matters carefully, and then he spoke again. "Look, as soon as Fawcette's gone, I'll tell Armstrong and Hughes about Al. Meanwhile, I think you should keep an eye on Beregond in case he arrives. If he finds out about Al make sure he doesn't leave to search for him. He could risk being caught himself."

"Understood," Maria said. "What about you?"

Havoc sighed. "I'm afraid I'll have to make a phone call."

* * *

When Winry reached to another crossing, she felt ready to give up. She had been searching for a bit more than half an hour, and yet there was no sign of Alphonse anywhere. What was worse, no passer-by she encountered had seen anything that resembled a suit of armour.

_How on earth did Al manage that?_ she asked herself in frustration, but she knew she wouldn't be able to find an answer to that.

"All right, deep breaths," Winry murmured under her breath. She had to start calming herself down, otherwise she would never be able to find Al. Her chances were already pretty slim, and she shouldn't make matters worse. Because she had to find Al and make him talk to Ed. The boys needed to straighten a lot of things out once they got together again, or that emotional rift that separated them so violently now would never heal.

It was ironic that she had to see to that, when several hours ago she had confessed Lieutenant Colonel Hughes how hurt she felt that they never told iher/i anything.

But she couldn't afford the luxury to think about that. The boys needed her help.

_Now… where would I go if I were Alphonse?_ Winry thought. Her mind's eye drifted back to the time that she and the boys were younger. Back to the time when their games – and arguments – lasted from dawn till dusk.

Back to the time when Alphonse had once become very upset with her and Edward, and he had run off to sit by a small river. Winry could recall the way the sunlight showered the particular place dotingly, as well as the colour and smell of the fields of flowers that surrounded Al when she and Edward found him. That place felt peaceful and, most importantly, safe.

_That's it._

"Excuse me," she addressed a young woman that was happening to pass by at the moment. "Can you tell me where I can find a calm, quiet place around here?"

"You mean like a park?" the woman asked, surprised at the question.

"If there's one."

"Well, yes. Not too far from here, in fact," the woman answered. "Just go straight ahead and then turn right. Can't miss it."

"Good. Thank you!" And with that, Winry hurried to the direction the woman showed her.

* * *

Al couldn't help it. Feeling once again safe after his soul plunged into the depths of despair, he just let everything out of his metal chest. He told of Barry's words, of his own fears – and of Ed's reluctance to answer to him when confronted.

"I just wanted to know if my memories were real, and he only stared at me," he concluded bitterly. His red eyes flickered, dimming slightly in sadness. "So I ran off. There was no point in staying there any longer."

"And then you bumped into me," Beregond said, nodding in understanding.

"Yeah," Al said, managing a chuckle before sighing.

Beregond didn't speak for some time. He merely sat on a bench nearby, taking a deep breath as though taking in the scent of the musky leaves; then patted the place next to him in a sign for Al to sit also. The little bird, rather tired of sitting in the gauntlet, flew on Al's shoulder and gave out a small chirping sound before settling once more.

It was while there was still that silence that Al found the chance to study Beregond a bit more. He had noticed that the Gondorian's red-rimmed eyes and the unshaved face upon their meeting, of course; but now he could see that the whole man's countenance screamed weariness.

_What happened to you?_

And then, Beregond finally spoke, his expression quite serious.

"Alphonse, I'm not going to lie to you. What Barry said holds water. It's possible that somehow memories can be created."

Al flinched and averted his gaze. Until then, at that very last moment, he had hoped that maybe…

"But, on the other hand," Beregond said, continuing on and cutting off Al's musings, "why should _your_ memories have been created? I refuse to believe that I've ended up into a world where someone is willing to give up an arm for the sake of creating a false brother."

Alphonse faced Beregond again, flabbergasted. But the Gondorian only smiled a bit as his hands reached to the inner pocket of his new overcoat and took out his journal.

"And," he carried on, "if you don't like my reasoning, I can give you another." He opened the journal and, after finding what he had been looking for, handed a picture to the suit of armour. "If you never existed, then who is that next to Edward?"

Al looked at the picture that Beregond handed him, staring at the two boys that now grinned back at him. The red eyes grew large as the suit of armour realised that he knew that picture. Beregond had found it in his father's abandoned house.

And, what was more, it was Alphonse himself who had said that the other boy with Edward was him.

_But then… why did Ed…?_

As if Beregond understood what Al thought at that moment, he closed the journal and put it back at its place, smiling kindly.

"I won't deny Edward _isn't_ telling you something, nor that it was a mistake not to talk to you sooner about it. But how will you know what that something is if you don't hear it from his own lips? You owe it to him. If not for the life you've spent as brothers, at least for the life you've spent as comrades these last four years."

Al still looked at Beregond's eyes, the Gondorian's words at last getting through to him. It was true that he didn't manage to subdue all of his fears, and what Barry said still echoed hauntingly within his mind – but now he had more than enough strength of heart to fight them back till he talked to Ed.

"Ready to go back now?" Beregond asked softly.

Al nodded.

"Good." And with that, Beregond stood up.

Al was about to follow suit, noting the stiffness with which Beregond arose; when, suddenly, the tit flew away in alarm. And Al soon discovered just why.

A wrench was flying toward him at incredible speed. A very _familiar_ wrench.

Needless to say that, at that moment, Al was extremely grateful for his metallic head.

"YOU DUMMY!" Winry shouted at the top of her lungs, making her appearance.

"W-W-Winry?!" Al stuttered, practically quailing. Beregond, on the other hand, was now looking at both Al and the newcomer with an expression that clearly said: _What did I miss this time?_

"You were the last person I expected to do a stupid thing like that!" Winry continued on, still seeing red – which explained why she hadn't noticed the Gondorian nearby. "Do you have any idea what you've done to Ed?! Or were you too wrapped up to your own feelings to even _think_ of your brother's?"

"About that…" Beregond started, but Winry didn't heed him; whereas Al was too frightened to react.

"Is this the kind of faith that you have in him?! The ilove/i that you have for him?! Isn't he your only brother?"

"Excuse me…" Beregond tried again.

"You need each other and you are just too stubborn to see it! But if you want to act like a jerk…"

"Alphonse was on his way back!" Beregond finally cried out.

"… then you can…" Winry froze as she eventually registered what she was being told. She looked at Beregond incredulously. "He was?"

"Yes," Al said, finding at last the courage to speak.

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" Winry asked, rolling her eyes. She picked up her wrench and placed it back to the pocket of her jacket. "Well, come on, we haven't got all day."

"Okay, okay," Al said, standing up. However, he felt that there was one more thing he had to do before setting off. He turned to Beregond's direction and nodded his head slightly. "Thank you… for the talk, I mean."

Beregond smiled. "Thank me by talking to Edward."

Winry smiled, too. "And I should thank you too, Mr…" She blinked as she suddenly realised something very important.

"Um… who are you?"

* * *

"I must say that this is a strange request from the military," said the caretaker, casting a brief glance at the officer who was now following him quite closely. "What business do they have with the dead?"

Connors polished the fingernails of his right hand on his military overcoat in a nonchalant manner. He didn't think he had to explain anything to a mere employer of the town hall of this… hamlet of a village that he found himself into in his search, but he figured he could be magnanimous just this once.

"There were several soldiers who died in the line of duty during the Ishbalan War. I've been making a report on those soldiers as to under what circumstances they died and whether they should be given any medals of honour post mortem. Though there were several already given such honours, we have to make sure everyone does. It's the least we can do for their families."

"I see," the caretaker said. He took out a key out of his pocket and opened the door of the room they had been heading. "Well then, I'll leave you to your work. Tell me when you're done."

"Of course," Connors said, nodding slightly. The moment that the caretaker was gone, he started reading through all the files that dated back from forty years ago onwards.

TBC...


	2. Fullmetal Body, Fullmetal Heart

That particular morning seemed quite normal in East City, which was bustling with life once again. However, it wasn't so for an office in Eastern Headquarters, because Roy Mustang, pale and tired, was talking on the phone. And he wasn't happy – not at all.

"Is Fawcette gone now?" he asked.

"Yes," Havoc answered from the other end of the line. "And he wasn't exactly pleased."

"I don't doubt it," Roy said grimly. "What about Armstrong and Hughes?"

"They're on their way to the hospital as we speak. They hope they'll be able to locate Beregond and Alphonse on their way there."

"Right." Roy rubbed his forehead wearily. "You've done well. Thanks, Havoc."

"Any time, Sir," Havoc said.

And with that, both men hung up. Roy sighed; then knitted his fingers as he got lost in thought. His gaze drifted to the great clock by the wall.

_Noon_, he thought absentmindedly. Hughes usually called him right about this time, but now there were other matters at hand; matters about which Roy wanted to talk to Maes about. And he would, whether Maes was willing or not. It was with that thought in mind that Roy picked up the receiver and dialed Maes's number in the office.

Just like he had expected, it wasn't Maes's voice he heard at the other end of the line. It was a woman's voice.

"Hello, you've reached Lieutenant Colonel Hughes' office, how can I help you?"

"This is Colonel Roy Mustang. I take it the Lieutenant Colonel himself isn't there?" He knew perfectly well where Hughes was, true; but he didn't need to tell the woman that.

"No, I'm afraid not, Colonel. Would you like to leave a message?"

"All right," Roy said. After all, that was why he called. "The moment he gets back in his office, tell him, in these exact words, to give me a ring, or else I will come personally to Central to _roast him alive_!"

A small squeak of fright was enough of a hint that Roy had got his message across.

* * *

"Alphonse?"

"Oh, good, you found him."

The relief with which both Ross and Bloch exclaimed those words upon seeing Al and Winry returning was quite evident. They even smiled as they welcomed back the suit of armour and the teen girl back.

Al bowed his head, clearly ashamed.

"Lieutenant Ross, Sergeant Bloch… I'm sorry for running off like that. I realise I caused a lot of trouble."

"That's good," Ross said, nodding slightly. "However, it's somebody else you should go see now."

Al nodded his understanding. "Is he in his room?"

Bloch shook his head. "He asked me to take him back to the terrace. He's just standing by the rail, looking at the horizon."

Winry frowned. "But he isn't going to do anything else, is he? Like jump off it?"

"No; from what I gathered, he was just waiting for his little brother to come back," Bloch answered, casting a meaningful glance in Alphonse's direction. "You had better go upstairs."

"Okay," Alphonse said, nodding again.

"Hurry up!" Winry cried, wielding her wrench threateningly.

"Okay!" the suit of armour replied in an almost panicky tone; then rushed up the stairs. Bloch, on the other hand, couldn't help but swallow hard at the sight of the menacing girl.

Fifteen-year-old children really _weren't_ what they used to be.

It was only then, after Alphonse's imposing stature was gone and Winry's fiery temper had calmed down, that the two soldiers noticed the _third_ member of the party.

"Can I help you?" Bloch asked, eyeing the tall, dark-haired man curiously.

The man smiled. "You've been helping the boys. That is enough for me." He stood in attention and saluted. "Sergeant Beregond of the 5th Division in Eastern Headquarters, escort of Major Edward 'Fullmetal' Elric."

"He's the one who found Al, actually," Winry completed with a smile.

Ross and Bloch stared in pleasant surprise as they saluted back.

"Well, it's good to finally make your acquaintance, Sergeant Beregond. Major Elric and his brother have been talking about you quite often ever since they got here," Bloch said.

"They didn't say anything _too_ bad, I trust?" Beregond asked jokingly.

"No," Ross answered with a brief shake of her head; "but I'm afraid there is some bad news for you."

Beregond sighed. "I feared as much when Major Armstrong and Lieutenant Havoc woke me up and made me leave from the back door of the house like some sort of thief," he said grimly. "So what's happened?"

Ross sighed, motioning her hand to a chair by the wall. "Sit down, Sergeant. I'll tell you all about it."

Beregond didn't have to be told twice. He sat down and listened carefully.

* * *

When Al opened the door to the terrace, he found Ed exactly where Bloch told him he would be. His older brother was standing by the rail, elbows resting against it and his back to him. He was awfully quiet, and he didn't make any sign that he had heard the creak of either the door or Alphonse's armour.

"Hey…"

Only when Al let out that soft, timid word did Edward turn around. For a moment, the suit of armour thought he detected a gleam of relief within the amber-coloured eyes. But, if there ever was such a gleam, it vanished almost at once to be replaced by an unreadable expression.

"You came back."

Al merely nodded this time.

"Why?"

"Because I owe it to you."

That answer seemed to satisfy Ed, because his gaze softened. At the next moment, he had turned his back to Al once again and locked his gaze on the street below.

"Thank you."

Alphonse didn't say anything to that. He stood in the same place, shuffling his legs, the uncomfortable silence growing heavier on both of them.

Until, finally…

"You also owe _me,_" Al said.

Ed stiffened; Alphonse could see that only too clearly.

"I'm here now, and I'm willing to listen to you," Al insisted. "Maybe you're afraid; I can understand that. But your silence hurt me also. So why don't you stare your fear in the eye? That's what you've always done, and I don't understand why things should be different now."

There was again silence for a while. Al sighed and was ready to leave in disappointment, when Ed's voice stopped him.

"You're right, Al."

Al watched Ed turning around, his expression now sorrowful and full of guilt. "I should have told you long ago, I understand that now. And, because of my cowardice, the one thing I feared most happened right before my eyes." His hands, both flesh and automail, clenched into fists. "So I can't expect anything worse now."

And with that, Ed took a couple of steps forward, his head bowed and averting his gaze.

"Al, do you hate me for putting you in this body?"

Alphonse had thought that there was nothing that could have possibly stunned him. And now he found out just how wrong he was.

"Brother… how could I hate you?" he asked, quite shocked.

But Edward didn't answer. He still kept his head bowed and his blond bangs hid his face, much to Al's regret.

"Brother… about what I said--"

"That reminds me," Ed suddenly said, cutting off Al mid-sentence. He instantly turned on his heel and kicked away his slippers. "I haven't sparred for a while so my body's gotten weak."

Alphonse caught himself stunned yet again.

"What are you talking about, Brother?!" he exclaimed. "Your wounds haven't healed—Whoa!"

He was cut short, because it was then that Ed swung around, aiming at Al with his flesh leg. The only reason that he didn't hit his target was Alphonse's quick reflexes; the suit of armour dodged him in the nick of time.

That wasn't something that deterred Edward, though. At the next moment, he was in fighting position again, eyes seeming ablaze.

"Brother, wait!"

Edward did nothing of the sort. Using his automail arm this time, he started pummelling Alphonse relentlessly, and all Alphonse could do was keep parrying his brother's attacks.

"Brother! You'll open your wounds!" he cried in one last attempt to reason with Ed, even in the berserk state his brother was in.

Edward only grabbed a blanket that was hanging from a piece of cord nearby to dry and threw it directly at Al's face. Temporarily blinded, Al was distracted long enough for Ed to manage a kick on his head.

The sound Al made as he fell down was quite deafening indeed.

"I won," Ed declared, finally stopping. He plopped himself down right beside Al, chuckling. "This is the first time I beat you, Al."

Al sighed and pulled the blanket off his face. "That wasn't fair, Brother."

"Shut up! A win's a win," Ed replied. He didn't speak again for some time as he tried to catch his breath; but then his face grew quite serious. "We fought a lot when we were kids."

Al's eyes flashed momentarily. "Yeah."

But Ed was far from finished. "Come to think of it, we fought over a bunch of stupid things."

"Like who would get the bottom or top bed of a bunk," Al said.

"I lost that time," Ed said.

"We fought over snacks."

"Aw… I don't remember ever winning."

"Who'd get the toys."

"I didn't win that time either."

"We fought when we played by the river, too."

"I got knocked into it."

"We also fought over who'd get to marry Winry."

"What?! I don't remember that!" Ed exclaimed.

"I won, but I got rejected," Al explained.

"Oh… I see…"

"And back when I doodled in your book."

"I wanted to clobber you so badly I could taste it!"

"We fought when we were training with Teacher, too."

"She told us to shut up and half-killed us, so that one was a draw," Ed said. He sighed and looked up at the sky. "And you're saying that all those are fake memories."

Alphonse bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

But Ed meant to get his point across and he would. "Weren't you the one who told Beregond: 'I want my body back'? Was that artificial?"

Al's hands instantly curled into fists. "No."

Only then did Ed turn to look at Al. "We'll definitely restore ourselves, Al; and we'll help those that need our help," he declared. "But to do that, we have to become stronger, both emotionally and physically."

Al chuckled at that moment. "Even if it means you have to drink milk?" he asked teasingly.

The hue Ed's face got at that moment was picture-worthy, to say the least.

Al couldn't help it. He laughed, loud and clear, and then brought forward a fist.

"We'll get stronger."

"Yeah." And with that, Ed brought forward his own automail fist to playfully punch Alphonse's.

If Al could smile, he would be sporting one of the broadest smiles ever to grace the face of the earth.

"Come on, let's go downstairs. There's a surprise waiting for us there," he said, standing up and heading for the door.

"Um… Al?"

Al turned around. "Yeah, Brother?"

"A little help, please?" Ed asked, almost pitifully.

Al didn't understand at first. But when he did, he sighed, and barely refrained himself from saying to his brother: _Told you so, _before offering his hand to help Ed get up.

* * *

"They've been gone for quite some time," Bloch said then, almost out of the blue it seemed. After all, Ross had already told Beregond everything, whereas Hughes and Armstrong had also arrived in the meantime. Both officers were certainly relieved to see that the crisis was, more or less, settled and under control.

"That's good. It means they're talking," Winry said.

Beregond didn't speak. He had become unusually quiet, resting his back against the chair and keeping his head bowed.

Maes looked at the Gondorian for several moments, unsure what was wrong with him. But upon closer inspection, the bespectacled man smiled a bit and shook Beregond slightly.

Beregond snapped his head up with a flinch. But, once he realised where he was, he sighed and rubbed the slumber off his eyes. "Sorry," he murmured.

"No problem," Maes assured Beregond. "You okay?"

Beregond smiled, if only just a bit. "I will be," he answered. It was then that he made a small "oh" sound, as he clearly remembered something. "By the way, there's something I wanted you to have." His hand reached for his trouser-pocket and took out the music box. "This is for Elysia. I meant to give it to her myself on her birthday, but…" he sighed and didn't continue his sentence.

Maes's smile broadened. "So you remembered," he said, taking the box and looking at it.

"It would be hard not to," Beregond said, letting out a small chuckle. "I had something for Edward, too; but, unfortunately, that went down the drain too."

At that moment, Alphonse and Ed appeared. The latter was letting out a few exclamations of pain now and then, while limping and using Al's arm as support. That is, until he saw the others looking at him curiously, because he immediately straightened himself and gave the air that nothing was wrong whatsoever. In fact, he sounded scolding when his gaze was locked on the Gondorian and said: "Heh… So you decided to show up after all."

Still, Maes and Beregond exchanged a knowing glance and even smiled a bit.

After all, they both noticed Ed's expression of relief on his features.

TBC...


	3. A Quiet Day

After Havoc made his phone call to Mustang, Havoc decided that he could probably benefit from a couple of hours of rest while he remained in Armstrong's estate. It was there that he finally met the rest of Armstrong's family - the estate _was_ enormous and the family members tended not to see each other for hours on end - and they, in turn, were more than happy to make sure their guest was comfortable.

And Havoc learned what it means living in an Armstrong residence.

The _hard_ way.

"It's true that the Armstrong family has always been placed in key positions in the State for generations. I was a general myself, and my older daughter is also a general, stationed in Drachma…"

"Really, dear, you shouldn't tire Mr. Havoc out."

Tired out, Havoc managed to think even in his benumbed state, hardly cut it. It was more like he was happy he didn't have his gun with him, or he would have shot himself out of his misery. And to think that he thought the major was odd. Now, as he looked at both the mother and the father, he had got a pretty good idea _how_ a son like the major acquired his size.

Because both parents were _huge_. The only difference was that the father was huge sideways, whereas the mother was huge in the vertical sense.

Havoc hated to think how the older sister might look like.

On the other hand, the younger daughter, who was now sitting quietly beside her parents, seemed nothing like them. She had a very petite form, and the only thing that was huge on her wouldn't be very much of a problem in the eyes of any man. If someone else hadn't caught Havoc's eye weeks before, he wouldn't mind asking _her_ out. But now, Havoc was just content with merely having a pleasant conversation with her.

"So, Katherine… what do you do on your spare time?"

The girl wrung her hands nervously, blushing. "Well, um… I like to play the piano…" she said timidly.

Havoc couldn't help but smile. Katherine was really cute.

"Well, that is…" Katherine then continued on, "I like to lift the piano three times a day."

All right, Havoc was wrong about her. Her chest _wasn't_ the only thing that was ridiculously huge.

_Yikes._

It was then that one of the maids appeared through the door and curtsied politely.

"Mr. Armstrong, the young master has just arrived."

"Ah, excellent," he replied with a broad smile, which was hardly concealed by his thick blond beard. "You may start preparations for luncheon, Mirabel. Come, my dear," he added, taking his wife's hand in his own, guiding her outside. "We should let Mr. Havoc talk with our son for a moment."

"Katherine, run along now," the woman said. "You shouldn't bother them."

"Coming, Mother," the girl said; then smiled at Havoc's direction. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Havoc." And with that, she followed her parents out of the room.

Havoc watched the family go and, soon afterwards, the major came in. He stood up and saluted.

"Ah, Lieutenant Havoc," Alex said, waving to Havoc to sit down. "I see you've met the rest of my family. Isn't little Katherine very much like me?"

Havoc kicked himself mentally for the question that sprang up in his mind, and he bit his tongue too late before he exclaimed, quite incredulously: "In what way?!"

"The Armstrong eyelashes, of course!" Alex said proudly.

"Oh, yes… of course." The fact that Havoc still didn't see it was of no matter whatsoever. He decided he should be polite. "Any news from the hospital?" he asked then.

Armstrong smiled. "Everything has turned out well. Alphonse has been found and he made amends with young Edward."

"And Beregond?"

"He's with them. And, since Edward is still in considerable pain and the Sergeant too fatigued to think clearly, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and I decided to let them be for today. We'll go to the hospital again tomorrow to discuss about what happened these last few days."

"That's good," Havoc said. "And I'm coming with you."

"Of course," Alex said with a nod; then that sparkly aura that Havoc had already spotted on the rest of the Armstrong family appeared on the major's countenance too. "Would you like to join the family at luncheon? I'm sure you must be famished."

_Oh, dear_. Havoc had to think of something to escape his predicament, and _fast._

"Ah, I was thinking that maybe I should take a walk. You know, get those weakened muscles back in shape…"

"Nonsense!" Alex said, waving his hand dismissively. "You can always have that later. A walk is better after a nice meal."

Havoc mentally sighed. It was worth a shot, at least.

But, once this was over, he was _definitely_ calling Sarah.

* * *

Roy was at his office when his phone rang, and somehow he knew who it could be. Picking up the receiver, he answered with a brief: "Yes?"

"My secretary said something about you roasting me alive, I believe," Maes said from the other end of the line.

"I see my message was delivered," Roy replied, putting down his pen and gripping the receiver more tightly. "Now, care to explain what _the hell_ is happening there?"

When Roy heard the melodramatic sigh, he regretted not having his gloves on, because he felt like burning everything in sight. "Roy, nothing important happened. You know I would have told you if it did."

"So you didn't think it was important to tell me that Ed and Al are in the hospital?!" Roy exclaimed.

But Maes was still irritatingly cheery. "Really, Roy, they got only a couple of scratches!"

"Ed was in a fight! He couldn't lift his arm!"

"Just a minor malfunction that was fixed in no time! His automail mechanic came and fixed it!"

Roy huffed angrily. _Damn it, Hughes, why are you doing this now?_

"Can you tell me the same about what happened to Beregond and Havoc?" he asked then. "They almost got themselves in the middle of a riot, Maes; they could be dead by now! Or should I mention that the sergeant is practically a fugitive?"

The small, momentary pause told Roy that Maes flinched. His friend had clearly not expected Roy to know about that.

"Maes… you're my eyes and ears in Central. You remember that, right?"

"I know, Roy; I _know._ But, I'm telling you, everything's under control," Maes insisted, still keeping his nonchalant act. "Just concentrate on your big transfer to Central… and find yourself a good wife!"

Roy didn't bother with an answer this time. With a sound that almost resembled a snarl, he slammed the receiver down on the phone.

"Easy on the phone, Sir," Riza said quite business-like. She was carrying a box full of paperwork to her own office when she saw Roy's violent reaction.

Roy, however, hardly heeded her advice. He was now frowning, lost in deep thought.

"Sir?"

Roy pursed his lips momentarily. "What has Breda's report on Connors been so far?"

"Nothing much, Sir," Riza replied. "Connors has been visiting every village and town in the East area and keeps looking at the death certificates. Unfortunately, Breda has yet to discover why."

Roy sighed and crossed his arms. "And he won't have to."

"What do you mean?" Riza asked.

"I was suspicious when I found out that Connors wasn't dismayed at all from his visit to Dr. Thornlace's office. So, while making all those phone-calls last night to Central, I also made one in West City. When I asked Thornlace if he made anywhere any reference to Beregond's case, he didn't mention the magnetic tapes, but he mentioned a small notebook where he keeps notes for his next book."

Riza nodded her understanding. "Connors found the notebook."

"Exactly. So now this much is obvious: Connors probably read Beregond's death experience and, though he certainly disregarded most of it as either the ravings of a madman or, rather, a very good act, he decided to go with that grain of truth that is in the core of the story."

"Beregond's death."

"Which brings us to the death certificates."

"But, with all due respect, Sir, what does he hope he will find there?"

"If I know anything about Connors, evidence of the oldest trick in the espionage book. Staging one's own death, picking up another name and then infiltrate the country – or, in this case, the military ranks."

Riza's eyes widened slightly at this. "So, he's basically trying to convict Beregond as a spy."

Roy nodded grimly. "Just like he tried to convict him as a murderer."

"That still doesn't make sense. Beregond didn't die in this world."

"True," Roy agreed. "But, remember, there's the possibility that there's someone out there who resembles Beregond. And if nothing came up after the whole search Fawcette and Connors made among the living…"

Roy didn't continue – nor did he have to. Riza had understood perfectly, and she had clenched her jaw.

"Amestris is vast and her population even more so," she said.

"Connors, on the other hand, is quite persistent. I just hope he's also unlucky and he won't find anything."

"Yet you're still having Breda following him."

Roy smirked tiredly. "I said I hope, I never said I'd leave anything to chance. But on the first news on Connors' success or not, we're focusing on other matters."

"Like Central, Sir?"

Roy only nodded. That was enough answer.

* * *

"This isn't as bad as it looks, I hope?" Beregond said, scrutinising Edward as the young alchemist lay on his bed. He hadn't missed the wincing expression that momentarily crossed Ed's features.

"Yeah, don't worry," Ed said, waving his hand dismissively and plastering a grin on his face. "I've had worse."

"It was still a bad idea to spar with me, Brother," Al replied, shaking his head in a disapproving manner.

"So that's what happened," Beregond murmured, more to himself than to the two present teens. He faced Ed again. "You will get yourself killed with that kind of attitude," he noted, pointing the elder Elric with his index finger in mock lecture.

But Ed had his answer ready; someone had provided it for him long ago. "My chances are almost as good as yours, and we're both still here," he declared, returning the 'so there' face Beregond had given him back at the time the Gondorian had to take care of his own injuries.

"Great," Al exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "That means you'll both take turns in getting hospitalised!"

None of the three could help it. They laughed. True, probably their humour could be regarded grim by some under the circumstances; but they didn't much care. They were happy, and that's all that could be said.

It was when their mirth had started dying down that Winry came in the hospital room, holding in her hands the tray of food she had promised to bring on her return. Ed dug into his share with his characteristic enthusiasm; whereas Beregond, being more courteous, thanked Winry for her trouble before started eating also. Soon, Winry also joined them, and Al sat close to keep the others company, like always.

"So, Miss Rockbell…"

Winry blushed before she could help it. "Just Winry will do, if you don't mind."

Beregond smiled. "Not at all. So, Winry, how long will you stay in Central?"

"A couple of days more; which reminds me, I'll have to go get my ticket tomorrow." She took another bite from her food and swallowed. "And, thanks to you, I will go back home without worries."

"Why is that?" asked Ed then, bemused.

"He'll make sure you won't break your automail again!" Winry answered, glaring at Edward.

"It's not my fault if people keep aiming at it whenever I fight them!"

"Here's an idea: _don't_ fight!"

Beregond and Alphonse could merely watch in morbid fascination as Edward and Winry burst into yet another argument. And it was only when the two blonds hardly paid heed to their surroundings that the Gondorian leaned close to the suit of armour.

"Does this happen every time?" he whispered.

"Pretty much," Al answered in the same tone. "It could be worse though; she hasn't hit him with her wrench yet."

_Clank_.

"I stand corrected," Al said, sighing.

Beregond just winced and stood up with a stoic look on his face. "I'll get some ice."

* * *

"Sarah, there's a telephone call for you. Will you take it?"

Sarah lifted her gaze from the list of books she was currently making. "Did they say their name?"

"No. It's some guy, though."

"Oh?" Intrigued, Sarah put down the list of books she was making and walked toward the office. "I'll take it. Thank you, Milly."

"Any time." Soon enough, Sarah had picked up the receiver and answered with a polite: "Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs Abbot; it's Jean Havoc."

"Now that's a pleasant surprise! It's good to hear your voice again, Mr. Havoc."

"Likewise," Havoc answered. "I hope I'm not bothering."

"No, I'm almost done for today. And, frankly, I meant to ask Lieutenant Colonel Hughes for a phone number where I could reach you after I finished."

"Really? So you knew I was here in Central?"

Sarah smiled mischievously. "Don't you know news travels fast?"

"I never thought it travels _that_ fast," Havoc answered with a chuckle. However, Sarah noted that the tone changed immediately to mild nervousness. "So… um… I was wondering… That is, I don't know how long I'll be staying in Central but… Would you like to go out tonight?"

Sarah frowned momentarily. "It's quite the short notice, really. I don't want to leave Alice on her own."

"Oh… that's right."

The woman winced to hear Havoc's tone of disappointment, even though she partly expected it.

What she didn't expect was the next question.

"What time does Alice finish her school?"

Sarah blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Uh… hold on a second." She quickly checked the clock by the wall. "In about an hour."

"Ah, good. So how about this? I come to pick you up and then we can go get Alice so we can all have some hot chocolate or something. Does this sound good?"

Sarah grinned broadly before she could help it. "Well, it's been cold these last few days; so it sounds perfect. I finish work in twenty minutes. Do you know where the library is?"

"Yeah, no problem. See you in twenty."

"Okay. Bye-bye."

"Bye."

And with that, Sarah hanged up and resumed with her work, her heart fluttering as a very familiar, yet long forgotten feeling washed through her.

Giddiness.

* * *

As promised, Havoc was by the entrance of the library twenty minutes after his phone-call with Sarah. A couple of minutes later, the woman herself appeared through the door, smiling and apologising for her delay. Havoc, however, assured her that she wasn't late at all – and even if she were, it would be worth the wait. All Sarah could do was blush profusely and quickly change the subject, saying that they had better not be late in picking up Alice.

Havoc was certainly surprised to see just how much Alice had grown even at the small period of time he hadn't seen her. And he couldn't help but laugh when Alice replied to his compliment: "Of course I grew! Small is boring!" That, however, made Sarah smile mischievously and declare that, since her daughter wasn't small anymore, she wouldn't like to go get some hot chocolate now, would she?

Alice, suddenly, wasn't so big anymore; so they went and had a seat at a café nearby. The little girl was the one who did most of the talking, as she sat between her mother and Havoc, retelling everything that happened at her school today. All the exercises that she had written correctly; which classmate fought with who and how the teacher made them stand in a corner of her classroom without talking; about the boy that the girl Alice always sat next to liked; and even about the games she played during breaks. She didn't stop not even while she was drinking her chocolate – she would just pause to take a sip from the sweet beverage and then she would resume as though nothing had interrupted her.

If Havoc didn't know any better, he would have thought Alice was _Hughes'_ daughter. Nevertheless, he enjoyed listening to everything she had to say, and he answered to her truthfully that Beregond wanted to see Ed and Al in the hospital first and that's why the sergeant wasn't with him. He was even saddened to see her face reflecting her slight disappointment, so he assured her that Beregond would see her soon. That made the girl cheer up a bit, so she resumed with her talking.

She didn't seem to notice how both Havoc and Sarah reached for a napkin when she asked for one, nor did she seem to notice the brief touch of their hands at that simultaneous motion. And if she did notice how her mum and Havoc looked at each other, their eyes revealing their surprise and a little bit of something else entirely, she certainly didn't comment on it.

At that contact, Havoc felt like his heart stopped pounding, only to start beating again with an a new, oddly happy rhythm. In fact, he enjoyed himself immensely and barely noticed how the time passed by. It was actually Sarah herself that alerted him to that fact, when she said that it was probably best they had headed at her house. Havoc nodded his understanding, and he made sure that this time the chocolates were _his_ treat.

Sarah didn't seem to mind this time. Instead, she said that she would be more than happy to accept Havoc's offer, but Havoc himself had to accept her invitation to dinner.

"Yeah!" Alice cried out excitedly. "Please come! I can show you our new home!"

With that kind of request, it was impossible for Havoc to refuse. However, he asked Sarah to make a phone call to the Armstrong estate in order to inform the major of his current whereabouts. Sarah agreed with a small smile, and so all three started walking to the woman's house, all the while Alice naming every single dish that she thought would make a nice dinner.

* * *

"Well? Any luck?" Edward asked Al, currently pointing at the top of his blond head.

Understanding, Alphonse checked carefully the spot Ed uncovered after removing the icepack. "Yup. The swell is gone," he declared.

"I didn't hit you _that_ hard," Winry said, rolling her eyes.

"No; I have to admit that her technique, though crude, is quite excellent," Beregond noted, teasing.

"Hey! Whose side are you on, traitor?" Ed exclaimed, feigning annoyance.

"I'm just stating what's fair," Beregond said with his palms upwards in a gesture of peace.

"You just don't want a wrench on _your_ head," Ed retorted.

"That too," Beregond added, laughing; and soon he was joined by the brothers and Winry. However, as Ed still watched Beregond, other, darker images penetrated his mind's eye.

_Can you picture it? I could take your appearance; smile at him; maybe even hug him… then crush his ribs before he had the chance to do anything. It would be so gratifying to watch him fall in a heap on the floor_, _a look of disbelief in his eyes as he would keep staring at the face of the person he was willing to protect with his life… the face of his murderer._

And, just like that, Ed's smile vanished from his lips. Al was the first to notice Ed's sobered visage, and it was only natural that he asked in a concerned tone: "Brother? What's wrong?"

At that question, Beregond and Winry looked at Edward also, a curious expression now settled on their features. And Beregond was clearly surprised when Edward locked his gaze on him.

"Beregond, while you were in East City or even here… Did you notice anything strange around you?"

Al tensed, knowing at once what his brother was talking about.

However, the Gondorian was just puzzled. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," he answered.

"Like you were watched," Ed explained, being careful with his words. After all, telling the man that he was probably stalked by immortal psychos wasn't the best option.

Beregond immediately shook his head. "Nothing like that. Although…" He stopped, biting his lower lip.

"What?" Al asked then, anxiously. Winry didn't say anything, realising that her friends were talking about something very important, and she had best listen.

"That yellow file you had been working on is gone," Beregond said, looking at Ed's direction. "Stolen."

Edward felt his eyes widening. "Are you sure?"

"Beyond any doubt. But I don't know who could have done it."

Al and Ed exchanged a knowing, nervous glance. They had a pretty good idea who could be behind the theft, and it even explained how the Homunculi came to know of the Gondorian.

"I see the file was important," Beregond said, sighing with regret. "I should have looked after it better."

"It wasn't your fault," Ed assured the man.

"What was in the file?" Beregond asked then. "Maybe we can restore some of the missing data."

"The data is before me."

It took a couple of moments for Beregond to fully understand what he was being told. But it was Winry who finally said: "Why would you keep such a file?"

"It was the Colonel's orders," Ed answered. He bowed his head in shame, not daring to look Beregond in the eye. "He wanted me to keep an eye on you, to gather any information I can get from you and present it to him."

"But… why?"

The tone Beregond used was soft, yet it still had the power to make Ed flinch. In the end, it was Al who answered.

"It was at the time we didn't know about you. I mean _really_ know about you. We, all of us, were curious, but… you wouldn't say much. So we went through a different route."

This time Beregond didn't say anything. But Alphonse could clearly see the Gondorian's disappointment and that pained him more than any words ever could.

"Beregond…"

But the man this time proved faster. With a gentle shushing sound, he silenced Alphonse and clasped a hand on the armour's shoulder; whereas the other hand cupped Edward's chin in a fatherly fashion.

"I'm not angry. I just wish I had given you and the others more reasons to trust me."

Ed's eyes widened again. "How can you say that? You were alone, you were afraid…"

"And an intruder," Beregond said, cutting in. "So your reaction was reasonable." It was then that he leaned forward, locking his gaze on both brothers. "The question now is: do you trust me now?"

"Yes," both boys said at once, truthfully.

That made Beregond smile broadly. "Good. So no worries on my account, all right?"

The boys nodded, earning a small pat on their shoulders.

It was then that all three realised that Winry was watching them, a confused expression on her face.

"What?" Ed asked.

"You guys told me that Beregond lost everything in an alchemic accident, that's why he was in Amestris," she said. "But if it was just that, why would anyone bother to steal Beregond's file?" She paused, looking at them with concern; especially at Al. "What more is there, and why didn't you tell me, Al?"

"You mean you don't know?" It was Beregond who asked that.

"Know what?" Winry asked exasperatedly. "Obviously, I'm not told anything!"

Ed sighed and shook his head. "It wasn't our secret alone, Winry. We couldn't tell you."

"It doesn't matter," the Gondorian said then, pinching the bridge of his nose. "In a way, it's good that you didn't say anything, because there have been developments." He smiled wearily as he turned to the boys again. "That's why I came to find you."

Ed and Al stared in puzzlement, taken aback by Beregond's words.

"What kind of developments?" Ed asked.

Beregond averted his gaze and stared at his hands, a faraway look settling in his eyes.

"I remember everything."

And with that, he started telling his tale once again – from the beginning.

TBC…


	4. In The Night

By the time Beregond reached to the conclusion of his narrative, the sun had already set and the city lights could be seen through the window. It was only natural. Beregond had not only informed Winry of the circumstances under which he found himself in Amestris, but he also told Ed and Al everything that he had found out while he was on his own in East City – including his session with Dr. Thornlace and the nasty truths it revealed.

Moreover, the Gondorian never realised how engrossed he had become in telling his story. In fact, he hardly paid heed to the looks he received from the boys and Winry. He never realised how hollow his voice sounded, all emotion gone as though he was talking about someone else and not himself. And he certainly never paid attention to the silence that grew heavy in the room once he stopped talking.

In the end, it was Winry who spoke first. At the sound of her voice, Beregond lifted his gaze to see Winry's saddened expression.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

Beregond actually smiled at this, even though quite weakly. "Thank you. You're only too kind."

It was at that moment that the Gondorian also noticed Al's eyes. They were dimmed, as if the suit of armour was thinking of something.

"Alphonse, is something the matter?"

"I was just remembering my meeting with Scar back at Lab 5. He accused you of being an Ishbalan traitor."

"He did, didn't he?" Beregond shook his head. "He called me like that upon _our_ meeting as well. Certainly explains a lot, doesn't it?"

"But there's something else too," Al noted.

"What?"

"If the Ishbalans denounced Alchemy, doesn't it mean that there was a time that they probably used it?"

"Yeah, I've thought of that as well," Beregond said, frowning. "What's in your mind?"

"Well," Al replied, "Maybe, if we had a look at their archives and writings, we would be able to find any clues in creating the philosopher's stone without risking human lives."

"Provided they haven't destroyed those writings in their wish to abolish anything that has to do with Alchemy," Beregond said grimly.

"It's still worth a try, don't you think?" Al said. "And you said you wanted to learn more about the Ishbalans, anyway."

"I suppose we've got nothing to lose." Beregond crossed his arms and bowed his head slightly. "What do you think, Edward?"

But Ed didn't answer. In fact, he was sitting perfectly still like some strange statue, his eyes locked in the void and his face scrunched in deep thought.

"Brother?"

"Ed!" Winry called, waving a hand in front of Ed's eyes.

Ed snapped his head up as though waking up from a dream, looking at each and everyone. "What?"

"Actually, Brother, that's our line," Al said, looking at Ed curiously.

"Sorry." Ed stretched his back and sat more comfortably; then turned to Beregond. "There's something that I need straightened out."

"Such as?" Beregond asked.

Ed pointed at the Gondorian's skin. "Are you sure this is your body?"

Beregond nodded. "Down to the last scar."

Ed thought about it. "That means that, when you got… there… your soul was taken in one hall, whereas your body must have been placed in another until you were reincarnated."

"Yes," Beregond replied, eyeing Ed curiously. "What's so strange about that? A human has always been consisted of the house - their body - and the spirit. Once the human dies, both house and spirit get separated. You've been telling me the same thing in our alchemy lessons."

"Wait a minute…"

It was Al who said that. The Gondorian and the suit of armour exchanged glances.

And then it hit them.

They both stared back at Ed.

"Are you saying that…?" Al started.

"Of course! I can't believe it didn't occur to me before!" Beregond exclaimed, slapping his forehead.

"What?" Winry asked. "What are you all talking about?"

"Winry," Al said then excitedly, his eyes flashing brilliantly, "We've just found out what happened to our bodies!"

The girl gasped, because she instantly made the connection. "Are you talking about those gates? That's where they are?"

All three nodded almost in unison. "When I went back for Alphonse I obviously got him back from the halls where the souls are kept," Ed said.

"While my body and Brother's limbs were taken through another gate," Al explained further.

"And they're still there, until we figure out a way to get them back," Beregond completed.

Winry's eyes widened. "But… if what you say is true… then in order to get them back… you'll have to go back there," she said, her voice almost betraying her.

Ed rested his elbows on his knees. "Yeah. But we won't be at any risk if we open the gate with a philosopher's stone. We won't be bound by the laws of Equivalent Exchange."

"And, besides, though it's impossible to bring back what's dead, it's not the case for Ed and Al," Beregond said thoughtfully. "They're both alive."

"Actually, I'm more concerned about my body and Brother's limbs," Al said then. "In what condition will they be?"

Beregond frowned. "They should be fine. There was no problem with my body."

"Yeah, but… you were already an adult."

Everybody fell silent as they understood what Al was trying to say. The boys had lost their bodies at the tender age of ten and eleven respectively, and it had been now officially five years since the incident.

The boys' ages and bodies wouldn't be compatible.

"So… now what?" Winry asked worriedly.

"Give me a moment to think about it," Ed said, knitting his fingers, head resting on them. He didn't speak for some time as he lost himself in thought again, while the others waited with bated breath to hear what he would say.

And then, Ed finally spoke.

"It's only a hypothesis but… When Al and I were taken to the gate, we were both taken apart at least once. Maybe in that process my mind and Al's crossed."

"What are you saying?" Al asked.

"That there might be a possibility that I'm somehow connected to your body. After all, I am kind of… s-small… for my age… Smaller… than normal…" Ed's wincing expression was a pain to watch, and yet the other three members of the party were too taken aback by the fact that Ed was _finally_ admitting his lack of height to pay any attention to that.

"So…" Winry said then, looking at Ed dubiously, "You're saying you're carrying Al's portion of growth too? That's crazy. You just don't drink your milk!"

"IT'S NOT CRAZY!" Ed shouted, fuming. "MILK HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!"

"Edward, there are people sleeping!"

But Ed didn't hear Beregond. He was too busy arguing with Winry.

"Here we go again," the Gondorian noted, letting out a mournful sigh. He looked at Al's direction. "Still, I think his theory holds water."

"I wasn't so sure at first; but now, the more I think of it, the more it makes sense," Al admitted. "Brother sleeps and eats a lot, so probably a portion of his sleep and food passes to my body." A chuckle escaped before he could help it. "At least I hope so; because we're blood brothers."

Beregond smiled warmly. "That you are, Alphonse. That you are."

* * *

Havoc settled on the couch in the living room in Sarah's house, feeling quite content and more relaxed then he had in a long time. Soon, he was joined by the woman herself, now holding two glasses with red wine on them. She gave one to Havoc with a smile before sitting down beside him.

"I thought it would go nice after dinner. Tell me if you like it," she said.

Havoc didn't have to be told twice. He first smelled it; then took a small sip, letting the wine linger in his mouth before swallowing. "It's good," he said with a nod. His hand then unconsciously reached for his pack of cigarettes, only to stop himself before lighting any.

Sarah smiled, understanding what was in his mind. "Alice has gone to bed. You can smoke if you want."

"Are you sure it's no problem?" Havoc asked. "Won't it bother you?"

"Not at all," the woman said. "I didn't pick up the habit myself, but my father used to smoke. I'm familiar with the smell." She laughed a bit. "Mum hated it, but I always found it comforting."

"Seriously?" Havoc asked. He lit a cigarette, keeping his eyes on Sarah. "In what way?"

She shook her head at once. "You'll laugh."

"Try me," Havoc replied, teasing her in a challenging manner.

"Well…" She brought her fine legs up on the couch to sit more comfortably – whereas Havoc kicked himself mentally for staring at them. "When I was Alice's age, I kept having this nightmare that everybody disappeared and I was left alone. I'd wake up terrified, but then I'd smell the lingering smoke, still there even hours after Dad had his last cigarette. So I knew I wasn't alone. A naïve thought, but it worked." She brought the wine to her lips and took a sip.

"So you didn't mind."

"No."

"What about your brothers and sisters?" Havoc asked, genuinely curious.

"Didn't have any," Sarah said with a shrug. "It was just me and my parents."

"Sounds a bit like my family too."

"You're an only child?"

Havoc nodded. "But there were a lot of other kids in the neighbourhood, so it wasn't that lonely. We used to play all sorts of games, mostly in teams. It was fun."

"What was your favourite game?" Sarah asked, interested.

"Lots, actually," Havoc answered with a laugh. "But we used to play mostly 'War'. Sometimes I would even be picked as commander of my team."

"So being a soldier was in your blood," Sarah noted, smiling a bit.

"Yeah, I suppose it was," Havoc answered. "I don't think I would have been able to do anything else though. I wasn't the best or brightest student."

"That doesn't mean anything, you know. You could have done something else if you wanted to," Sarah said seriously. "Maybe you were more drawn to that line of work."

Havoc blushed. "I guess." He looked back at Sarah, his own turn to feel curious. "What about you?"

"There isn't much to tell, really," the woman said, sipping her wine. "I was a good student, but I didn't have all that many friends. I was too shy back then and it took me quite a while to open up to someone. I wouldn't play much with the other children either."

"A bit lonely, no?" Havoc said.

"I was a loner, never lonely," Sarah said. "That's what I like to think of myself back then anyway."

"Then how…?" Havoc stopped midway, frowning. "Never mind."

"How I met my husband?" Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Havoc nodded.

"Simple. He was my best friend."

"I see." Havoc swirled the contents of the wine with a slight shake of the glass. "Do you miss him?"

"He was a big and important part in my life," Sarah answered. "It's only natural that there are times that I do."

Havoc winced inwardly.

"That doesn't mean that I'm not ready to offer another big and important part of my life to someone else if he'll have it."

Havoc stared at her, unsure what to do, trying to push the gears in his mind to operate because it seemed he couldn't think of anything anymore.

And so, he let his heart guide him. He let his fingers brush hers as he took her glass and put it on the table, next to his. His eyes never left her face, taking in the slightly surprised look on her green depths. His hands cupped her face and brought her closer to him as though on their own accord, whereas her hands rested against his chest. Before he could help it, a moan escaped his lips at the touch.

A moan of _pain, _which made him draw back at once.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, eyes widened in concern.

"Sorry," was all that Havoc managed to say through gritted teeth.

Raising an eyebrow, Sarah tentatively unbuttoned Havoc's shirt. Before Havoc had the time to assure her that everything was fine, she managed to catch a good glimpse of the slash.

Havoc expected everything at that moment. That she'd scream; that she'd pale; that she'd even faint at the sight. He certainly never expected her to see her frown.

"That looks bad."

"It's just a scratch."

"Nevertheless, the bandages need changing," she said. "Take off your shirt."

Havoc looked at her in surprise. "You know what to do?"

"Just do what I say," Sarah insisted, getting up. "I'll go get the medical kit." And indeed, in less than five minutes, Sarah not only had taken off the old bandages, but even cleansed the wound and started putting new ones over it.

"Where did you learn to do this?" Havoc asked, unable but to feel amazed at her skill.

Sarah smiled a bit, still working on the bandages. "I wasn't always a librarian."

Havoc's eyes widened at this, something that made the woman chuckle. "I had a nurse's training for three years; up to the age of eighteen to be exact. I was given small, easy tasks at first, really. But then, as I got more experience, I was handed more challenging matters."

"Why didn't you continue?" Havoc asked curiously.

She stopped momentarily, a sigh escaping her lips. "The last patient I attended to was my husband."

Havoc bit his lower lip to stop himself from gasping, but it was too late. "You were… in Ishbal?!"

Sarah shrugged. "Just for the first five months; nurses were needed behind the lines. I never saw the mayhem the war itself proved. In fact, the only way I knew of our progress was by what the injured soldiers would say or by the radio."

"But… Alice?"

"I would often meet my husband in secret," she explained. "We knew we'd be in trouble if we got caught, but… we didn't care really. We thought nothing touched us." Her eyes darkened. "Until, one day, a bullet passed through his stomach during a skirmish and that was that. He died of internal bleeding." She tied the final knot, her expression clearly showing that she was getting lost in her memories. "I found out I was pregnant with Alice two weeks later and so I resigned. My father found me the job at the library and… well, the rest is history." She looked up at him, her smile forced and sad. "Now you know everything that there's to know about me."

Havoc cupped her cheek, caressing it in a wish to somehow comfort her. "I'm sorry."

However, she shook her head. "Well, I'm not. Because you know what I came to realise during that small time?"

Havoc stared at her, puzzled.

"I realised that everybody dies," she said. "But not everybody lives." She ran her fingers through Havoc's unruly fringe gently. "That's all we can do."

And with that she got up to put the medical kit back in place, leaving Havoc alone with one single thought. Though it had only occurred to him at that moment, he had long suspected it and he could only finally admit it to himself.

He was in love with her.

* * *

Winry was the first to fall asleep. That came as no surprise to the boys or Beregond. After all, she had a big, tiring day. So, after Beregond placed his overcoat on the huddled form that had perched comfortably on a couch nearby, they put the lights out and every one tried to get some sleep. Everyone, that is, except Al, who just placed his soul in a relaxed state.

That was why he heard Beregond's unrest. He listened carefully, unsure what to make of it, and he was surprised to see the Gondorian getting up from the chair on which he had settled before. And he was even more surprised when he saw Beregond walking out of the door, opening and closing it with a soft clicking sound.

Feeling intrigued, Al decided to follow him. Unfortunately, his suit of armour didn't allow him to leave as quietly as he wanted and, naturally, Ed stirred. Al immediately froze and dimmed his eyes so that Ed wouldn't notice what was happening. After a whole minute that seemed to have lasted an eternity, Ed was still once again, apparently caught up in sleep.

That proved Al's perfect chance. Before his brother would notice anything, Al opened the door and walked out.

"Is something wrong?" Ross asked.

Al mentally sighed. He should have expected Ross would still be outside, standing guard.

"I just wondered where Beregond went," he said honestly.

Ross understood. "He's up at the terrace."

"What for?"

It was amazing to see a seven-foot suit of armour jumping up the ceiling in astonishment at the sound of another voice so close to him.

"Brother?!" he exclaimed. Ed was truly beside him, the blanket covering his shoulders like a cloak and, though he was clearly still sleepy, there was a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Serves you right for trying to sneak out, Al," he said, chuckling. However, he soon sobered and turned to Ross. "He didn't tell you why?"

Ross shook her head.

"Right." And with that, he placed his automail arm on Alphonse's and dragged him along with him.

Surely enough, the door to the terrace was open and Beregond was sitting cross-legged on the ground. He didn't seem to realise he was being watched, because he didn't react to the footsteps approaching him at all.

On the other hand, the brothers were dumbstruck to see what the Gondorian was doing.

He was performing alchemy – without clapping or the use of arrays. He only waved his hand a bit and, with only a _hint_ of an alchemic reaction, there would be statuettes the size of chess pieces springing out of the ground before him.

_How?! _Al thought, shocked.

It was Ed, however, who gave the answer.

"You didn't just remember what happened to you at the gate, did you? You recalled all the knowledge that you acquired while in it as well."

"Yes," Beregond answered, thus showing that he had, in fact, heard the boys' approach. He turned to look at Ed and Al, a melancholic expression on his face. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I was afraid… and ashamed." The last word was spoken almost inaudibly.

Ed quirked an eyebrow and sat beside Beregond, with Al following suit. "Ashamed to face us?"

Beregond nodded.

"Why?" Al asked, surprised.

The man bowed his head, not daring to look at either of them anymore. "Because you need this knowledge more than I ever will. You should be the ones becoming more powerful, so that maybe one day you can face the Gate and get your bodies back. If…"

It was then that Al clasped his hand on Beregond's shoulder, making the man stop.

The Gondorian looked up, uncertain.

"Beregond, Teacher taught us in the desire that one day we would become as powerful as she was; and maybe… somehow…" Al's voice quavered uncertainly as he uttered that word, "… even become better than her. In this way, the knowledge she gave us not only would pass on to the next generation, but it would be enriched as well."

"Did she tell you that?" Beregond asked.

"Not really," Ed answered, a drop of sweat forming on his temple. "Let's just say that she was a woman that let her actions speak louder than her words… a lotlouder."

Beregond swallowed hard, catching on. "I see."

"Anyway," Al said, "Our point is: You're _our_ student and you managed to get to this knowledge through _our_ teachings. If anything, it makes us proud."

The man's eyes widened in realisation. "I didn't think of it that way." A broad smile graced his features. "And, come to think of it more clearly… I now have more chances of helping your with the philosopher's stone. If we find a way, maybe we can…"

"No," Ed said at once.

Beregond looked at Ed in disbelief. "Why not?"

Ed sighed, a sad smile crossing his features. "You shouldn't try to keep your promise to us when it's impossible for us to keep _our_ promise to _you._ It wouldn't be fair."

Beregond frowned at this, taking in what Ed said. "So… you're releasing me from my promise?"

"Yes."

It was then that Beregond's loud and clear laughter filled the night air.

"What?" both boys asked, not really understanding. And Ed was certainly surprised when Beregond suddenly ruffled his hair in a playful manner.

"Though I'm a man of my word, it wasn't _that_ that made me stay with you all this time. It never was."

"Then," Ed ventured, "when you said 'we'…"

"… I meant it with all my heart," Beregond completed.

At that, Ed grinned broadly and placed a hand forward. "'We' it is then. For better and for worse. Agreed?"

Beregond and Al exchanged only one brief look before their own hands over Ed's, thus sealing the agreement.

"By the way, Beregond," Al asked then. "What were you making?"

The Gondorian smiled a bit. "Sculptures of the constellations," he explained, and lifted a small statuette of a hunter. "This is Menelvagor. It's that group of stars over there. It's thought that he's guarding the world from high above. And this one…"

The brothers listened on, looking up at the stars and letting Beregond teach themfor a change.

TBC…


	5. Two Men's Faces

The sound of a knock on the door woke him. He opened an eye, waiting to see if the knocking was just his imagination, only to close it again when he heard nothing. He had almost fallen asleep again, when the second knock on the door violently yanked him away from the land of dreams. Letting out a sigh, he forced himself out of bed and fumbled his way to the door, where his robe was hanging from a hook. It didn't take a great mind to figure that it was very early in the morning – practically still night, in fact.

A third knock snapped him out of his musings.

"All right already," he muttered under his breath. He scratched the back of his neck, his other hand combing his unruly hair in a more presentable state, and walked up to the door. "Yeah?" he called out.

"Breda."

If Roy Mustang wasn't alert before, he certainly became now. Snatching his ignition gloves from the small table nearby just to keep things on the safe side, he unlocked the door and opened it.

The second lieutenant was really in front of him; Roy could easily recognise his subordinate's bulky form even in the darkness of pre-dawn.

"I take it it's not good news," he said, his eyes locking on Breda's.

"I'm afraid so, Sir."

Roy nodded. "Come in. Mind you, the coffee isn't fresh."

"In the state I'm in, Sir, that's the least of my problems," Breda replied. He took out his overcoat and, still holding it in his lap, he settled on a chair in the kitchen. "Connors doesn't stay in one place, even for the night."

"I'm not surprised. I hate to admit it, but Connors knows how to put all his energy where it matters," Roy said. He grabbed two mugs and filled them with coffee before passing one to Breda; then sat down across the lieutenant. "Well?"

Breda's answer came in the form of an envelope. "This is a copy of one particular death certificate from the last village Connors visited. According to the caretaker, Connors has one, too."

Frowning, Roy took the envelope and opened it, unfolding the piece of paper that was inside. He instantly looked at the data that interested him the most.

"William Brice, male, unmarried, born 28th February 1875, died at the age of 27 of the plague, occupation archaeologist and birthplace…" Roy froze, looking closer at the paper. "Resembool." He looked at Breda incredulously. "Is this correct?"

Breda nodded. "The caretaker said that he even knew the guy."

"I see." But, in truth, Roy was getting immersed in the paper as he read now all the data carefully, especially the place of death and the name of the _informant _who announced Brice's death.

"Did you read it?" Roy asked Breda.

Breda nodded again. "Do you think the Elric boys are aware of this, Sir?"

Roy, however, shook his head. "I doubt it. If they were, I'd definitely tell." Roy's fingers started tapping the surface of the table as he thought matters carefully. "Do you have a picture?"

Breda took out a photograph out of his pocket and gave it to the colonel. "The last one. Connors got one, too."

"Which means that we could be in trouble if we don't act," Roy replied, looking at the thoughtful face of the young man who seemed to simply stare back at him.

The same face that belonged to a Gondorian soldier from another world.

* * *

"And," Ed continued, holding up the crude sketch of Envy he had made in a piece of paper, "just before I was knocked about by this guy again, Scar appeared, destroying the walls of the main hall." He placed the paper down and turned once again to the others. "Then everything's like a blur. I remember trying to get Al out; then you, Hughes; and afterwards the water."

And there it was where he ended his story. Though Hughes, Armstrong, Havoc and Beregond had listened with utmost interest to everything the boys said, none of them spoke at once. Not that that was all that much of a surprise; what Ed said sounded almost too incredible.

Yet there was no denying that what he said was nothing but the truth.

In the end, it was Armstrong who broke the silence.

"Soul guardians… Shou Tucker alive… two Homunculi named Lust and Envy… and according to Marcoh's notes, the red water is the origin of the red amplifiers."

Ed looked at Armstrong incredulously. "You knew about them too?"

Armstrong nodded, an unusual expression of grimness settling on his face. "I had to use one, back at the Ishbal Massacre. All the State Alchemists did. But I doubt there was anyone who ever thought there would be so many mysteries concerning them."

Maes looked at the other two sketches Ed made. "And then there's the transmutation circle for creating the philosopher's stone." He straightened his glasses in discomfort. "This can't be good." He turned to Ed's direction, but he noticed that both boys were looking at Beregond. The Gondorian had picked up the sketch with the ouroboros on it and was now examining it thoughtfully.

"What's on your mind?" Al asked.

"Just thinking that I might have found another connection to my world," Beregond answered with a sigh.

Armstrong and Maes quirked an eyebrow in curiosity, something that made Havoc, Ed and Al murmur in their direction: "Long story, we'll tell you later."

"This is like an image of an _amlug_; a serpent of great evil," Beregond explained. "Back in the old days, Middle-earth was plagued by them. Some of them were wingless, but some had wings, just like this one. Nevertheless, all of them served one master: Sauron."

Ed's eyes widened as the young alchemist understood to what kind of connection Beregond was referring. "That's right! Envy said they were _told_ not to kill me!"

"Which means someone must be guiding them," Maes mused aloud. He took the sketch from Beregond's hands, casting a brief glance at it. "Something might pop up if I fish through the crime list at the tribunal."

"I'll do some investigating on any of Dr. Marcoh's subordinates that probably participated on the research of the red stones," Armstrong said, holding in his hand a list of several names. "That reminds me," he added, facing Havoc and Beregond. "You two searched amid the rubble of Lab 5. Did you find anything?"

Ed and Al turned to the two men in question. Beregond had told them earlier that morning of his own adventure in Central, and they couldn't help but feel intrigued.

But Havoc and Beregond's answers weren't hopeful.

"All we found was the transmutation circle on the floor," the Gondorian said.

"And even if there were something else," Havoc added, "those mercenaries probably made sure it's gone now."

Everyone fell silent at this news. They didn't want to hear that at all.

What they did hear, however, was a very loud stomach growl that made them all turn to Edward's direction. Ed's face turned crimson and he shuffled his legs.

"Yeah…" he said softly. "I'm kind of hungry…"

"Come to think of it, I could use some food as well," Beregond said then, rubbing his own stomach. "May I be excused till I get something from the canteen?"

Armstrong and Hughes chuckled. "Yeah, go ahead. Just bring something for us too!" Maes said with a broad smile.

"Of course," Beregond answered, and got ready to walk out the door.

"Wait!" Havoc suddenly exclaimed. "I'm coming with you! I mean… you'll need some help to carry all the stuff."

Beregond frowned, but something reflected in Havoc's eyes made him understand that he had to indulge the lieutenant.

"Sure," he said, smiling.

And with that, the two men exited. After saluting Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Bloch, who guarded the door, they went down the hallway.

It was when they turned around the corner that Beregond noticed a silly grin on Havoc's face.

"By that look I can safely assume something _very_ good happened," the Gondorian noted, a mischievous smile tugging on his lips.

"Good hardly cuts it," Havoc said, still grinning. "I saw Sarah and Alice yesterday."

Beregond's face lit up. "You did?" But, at the next moment, his eyes widened in realisation. "Don't tell me! You and Sarah…?"

Havoc nodded, always grinning.

Beregond instantly stopped in his tracks, eyes locked on Havoc. "You actually…?"

"No… But I realised what she means to me," Havoc answered.

"That's great!" the Gondorian exclaimed. He nudged the lieutenant. "So when is the wedding?"

"Beregond!" Havoc said, punching the sergeant on the arm. "You, of all people!"

"Sorry, sorry," Beregond said, lifting his palms in a gesture of peace. "But seriously… do you consider it?"

Havoc didn't hesitate to answer. "Yeah. But it's still early. I mean, I'm stationed in East City and she's here."

Beregond nodded his understanding. "That's true. I wouldn't worry though. If both your feelings are strong enough, you'll be able to come up with a solution."

"I hope so," Havoc said.

Beregond couldn't help but smile, because it had just become obvious to the Gondorian that Havoc _did_ have such powerful feelings for Sarah. That thought was pushed aside, however, because at that moment he noticed the sign that signified the direction of the canteen.

But he never had the chance to take a step further, for the two soldiers came face to face with Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette, and he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by two privates, who made sure their guns were visible to Beregond and Havoc.

Fawcette smiled in triumph at Beregond. "There are two ways we can do this, Sergeant. You either come quietly and without much fuss or… well, it won't be pretty. Choose."

* * *

Meanwhile, outside Ed's room, Ross and Bloch were still standing guard. However, that didn't stop from young Bloch to start a conversation with the second lieutenant.

"What do you think they're talking about?" he asked. "From the sound of things, it could be something pretty serious."

Ross, however, shook her head. "I don't want to get involved in any more dangerous business, so I don't think anything," she answered with finality.

"Oh, you people," a voice said seemingly out of nowhere. "Is this the Fullmetal Alchemist's room?"

Ross and Bloch turned to the direction the voice sounded. "Yeah," Ross replied. "It's over this…"

But neither Ross nor Bloch managed to finish their sentence, because they had become too stunned. They could only stare incredulously as the Führer entered the room.

That was the same reaction Hughes, Armstrong and the Elric Brothers had when they saw him.

"Sir?!" they finally exclaimed.

Führer Bradley waved his hand dismissively. "Do be quiet please, such a commotion is unnecessary."

"But, Sir, why did you come here?" Maes asked, still unable to believe his eyes.

"Why, to drop off a get-well present," Bradley answered as if he was stating the most natural thing in the world. Sure enough, he walked up to Ed and gave him a bag with a melon inside.

"Err… thank you…" Ed stuttered.

"What's the problem?" the Führer asked, the eyebrow under the string of his eye-patch quirking. "You don't like melons?"

Ed looked as though he wanted to scream: "THAT'S NOT THE PROBLEM HERE!"

But the Führer didn't seem to notice. He merely looked at each and everyone that happened to be present in the room. "I must say that I consider it quite fortunate that I found you all here," he said, first casting a glance at Armstrong. "It seems that you've done a bit of investigating these last couple of days. In search of two missing soldiers, I believe?"

To say that Armstrong was startled would have been an understatement. He looked at the Führer with eyes widened. "How did you…?"

A corner of Bradley's lips tugged to a half-smile. "Don't take my intelligence network lightly. And now we come to you, Edward Elric," he said, his only eye scrutinising the young alchemist. "The philosopher's stone was it?" If he ever paid heed to Ed's flinching at those words, he didn't show it. "How much do you know?"

Nobody spoke.

And then, the most unexpected sound filled the room: the sound of laughter. The _Führer's _laughter.

"I was only kidding! No need to be so defensive!" he said, still laughing.

Everyone looked at him with an expression that reflected how many of their brain-cells got fried at seeing the most powerful man in all of Amestris acting like a teen.

However, Bradley was far from finished. In fact, he had become quite sober as he said: "Needless to say that I'm aware of the seriousness of the situation that nearly jeopardised the citizens' safety here in Central city. As I also know that I owe most of my thanks to a certain Sergeant Beregond and a Lieutenant Jean Havoc for putting a stop to those mercenaries' schemes. They work under Colonel Roy Mustang like you, isn't that right, Major Elric?"

"Um… yes, Sir," Ed answered.

Bradley smiled. "They will be happy then to know what great service they provided the Colonel. After all, I always reward officers with such an excellent crew."

Maes' eyes narrowed slightly, understanding perfectly well what the Führer was implying. Roy had just got his transfer.

"But I was told that they would be here," Bradley said then, looking around as though searching for them. "Did I miss them?"

"They'll be back shortly, Sir," Armstrong answered.

"Ah! Excellent. You don't mind my waiting for them now, do you?"

None did. Then again, no one would have dared to say that they _did_.

"Oh!" Bradley exclaimed, his good eye catching sight of the list of names on the table nearby. He picked it up and examined it carefully. "A list of the names of those who worked on the research on the philosopher's stone."

"You know of that, Sir?" Armstrong asked incredulously.

"Of course! I've investigated this matter quite thoroughly myself, in fact. I'm afraid to say that all of these peoples' current whereabouts are unknown. They disappeared a few days before the incident at the laboratory." He didn't pay attention to the gasping sounds as he continued on. "Yes, I'm afraid the enemy is always one step ahead of us. Even with my intelligence network, we presently know nothing of the objectives or how far the enemy has penetrated."

"In other words," Maes ventured, "to conduct a research would be dangerous?"

"Yes. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Major Armstrong, Elric Brothers… I have judged that you are worthy of being trusted, so I will have to order on your discretion. And I will have to give the same command to…"

It was then that the door opened with a loud bang, and Havoc rushed in. He was greatly agitated, everyone could tell that. Havoc, on the other hand, could only stare when the first thing the lieutenant caught sight of was the Führer.

"S-sir?" he stammered, his eyes widened.

"At ease, soldier," Bradley said calmly. His good eye examined Havoc from head to toe. "Second Lieutenant, I see. And by the description I was given I can safely assume you're Jean Havoc."

"Yes, Sir," Havoc answered, swallowing hard.

By that time, Ed and Al had noticed something else; something that they didn't like at all.

"Where's Beregond?" Al asked, his voice full of worry.

Havoc bit his lower lips in hesitation before replying: "Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette has just placed him under arrest for actions against the State."

"WHAT?!"

It was Ed who screamed that, his face contorted in wrath. But his wrath was quickly changed into apprehension as Bradley raised his hand as a sign for him to quiet down.

"Did Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette name those actions?"

"No, Sir," Havoc said. "But, Sir, whatever Sergeant Beregond is blamed for, it can't be true!"

"It certainly contradicts with what I've been hearing about the Sergeant so far. Hmm…" Bradley didn't speak for a few moments, clearly lost in thought. "Then obviously this must be some sort of misunderstanding. I'll have this matter cleared in no time. Rest assured."

And then there were more noises heard from the hallway.

"Sir! Where are you?"

Bradley made a face as though he was caught red-handed in doing something very wrong.

"Looks like my annoying subordinates have come after me. The consequences for sneaking out of work." Without missing a beat, he opened the window and jumped outside. Luckily for him, the room was on the ground floor, and so, at the next instant, he was walking away carefree as though nothing had happened.

"Farewell!" he said, his body posture proud as it fit a war-hardened soldier. "We shall meet again!"

The only thing that the others could do was watch him go, their jaws - even Al's metal one - was ready to drop. And that was how Winry found them all as she walked in after her call to Pinako, oblivious to everything that had happened.

And yet, by the face Ed had, she somehow knew that her trip back to Resembool would have to be postponed for the time being.

* * *

The train still travelled at great speed, its engines roaring and the landscape whooshing by in a blink of an eye. Yet the passengers hardly paid heed to it, being accustomed at such a way of travelling. So, everyone was either reading their newspapers or talking to their fellow traveller, whereas others were taking a small a nap.

However, Brigadier General Connors, who was on his way to Central in the company of two lieutenants so as to find the Führer and inform him of the discoveries he's done, was simply lost in thought. That was the reason that he didn't hear the conductor calling his name the first time. At the second time, he snapped his head up as though he had woken from some bizarre dream-like state.

"Yes?"

"There's been a call from you. A certain Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette wishes to speak with you."

Connors' eyes widened slightly at this. "Very well. Show me the way."

The conductor did. After placing his escorts by the door as guards, the brigadier general entered the small booth and picked up the receiver. "What news?"

"The ape has just been placed in his cage, Sir," Fawcette said, his grim satisfaction evident even at the tone of his voice. "And I have all the charges I need to keep him there till you arrive."

"Good," Connors said, grinning cruelly. "I'm just nine hours away from Central; expect me at about 5 o'clock this afternoon. Meanwhile, here's what I want you to find out from him…"

And Connors started giving his instructions one by one, while Fawcette listened carefully.

TBC…


	6. Transfer

When Roy arrived in Eastern Headquarters with Second Lieutenant Breda, he was surprised to meet Lieutenant General Grumman there. The old officer was very happy to see the young Colonel; for, as he said, he really wanted to enjoy a game of chess with him.

Roy was still troubled by Breda's discovery, of course. However, he also knew Grumman quite well. When the Lieutenant General came to meet him personally, there was also a very important matter which needed discussion. That was why, after dismissing Breda, he followed Grumman to the older man's office.

A quarter of an hour later, the game had progressed quite a lot. Still, Grumman didn't say anything about the reason for Roy's presence in his office just yet. Roy was a patient man, though, and he knew that his patience would be rewarded sooner or later.

"I have some interesting news for you," Grumman said then, moving another one of his chess pieces.

"Oh?" Roy said, keeping his eyes on the game.

"I received an order for your transfer to Central a couple of hours ago. You're to start working there in two days' time."

"I see." Roy crossed his arms as he became lost in thought. "That's rather sudden, I must say."

"From what I gathered, King Bradley was impressed by two of your subordinates – a sergeant and a second lieutenant."

Roy nodded, and he made a mental note to thank Havoc and Beregond at first chance.

"It'll be lonely here," Grumman continued on. "You've been quite interesting."

This was the first time since the conversation started that Roy allowed himself a small smile. "Not as much as your stories of when you were young."

Grumman chuckled. "Well, when I was a young officer it was so…"

It was then that Roy moved one of his knights; a move that Grumman certainly didn't expect, because he remained staring at the chess-board in surprise.

"Got you there, Lieutenant General," Roy said with a smirk.

"Hmm." Grumman looked at each of his pieces in deep thought, until he finally moved a pawn forward. "Thanks to your hard work, you also made my job easier."

"I, too, was able to learn a lot from the work you gave me here," Roy replied, quickly taking the pawn with one of his bishops. "I really appreciate it, Lieutenant General."

Grumman didn't answer at once, clearly contemplating his options before making his next move. "The bad thing is that Brigadier General Hakuro will be replacing you. I don't like him; he's too stern."

"You know how most of the brigadier generals are. I wish you good luck." And with that, Roy moved his queen, a look of triumph on his face. "Checkmate."

"Ah!" Grumman could only stare at the board with eyes widened before exclaiming excitedly: "I finally lost!"

"I finally beat you," Roy said, his smiling broadening.

"This is special," Grumman declared, taking out of his pocket a small journal. "So that makes it a total of 1 win, 97 losses and 15 draws."

"I'll gladly take that win," Roy said. He started picking up the pieces and placing them inside the board; whereas Grumman stood up, a broad smile on his face as well.

"Talking about special, would you take my granddaughter as your wife? She'll become the future Führer's wife, after all."

But Roy shook his head. "Don't think too much ahead, Lieutenant General." He stood up and got ready to leave, but then he suddenly stopped in his tracks as though remembering something. "Talking about special, I have several more subordinates that I want with me in Central."

Grumman smiled, handing Roy his chess-board. "Of course. Take them."

"You have my thanks."

And with that, Roy saluted the lieutenant general and walked out. When he entered his office, Riza was already waiting for him, her expression business-like.

"You're late," she noted.

"Got held up," replied Roy. "Any news so far?"

"Lieutenant Havoc called just a quarter of an hour ago," Riza said. "Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette arrested Sergeant Beregond."

Roy pursed his lips. "I see. And, to make matters worse, Connors found what he had been looking for."

"Did Lieutenant Breda say that, Sir?"

"Yeah." Roy's brows creased to a frown. "Things are turning for the worse."

"Is there anything we can do?" Riza asked.

"Maybe," Roy said. "Call the others. I have something to announce."

Riza nodded her acknowledgement saluted courteously before exiting. As for Mustang, he sat behind his desk and knitted his fingers as he became lost in thought.

* * *

"Sir, we brought the suspect," one of the privates said, saluting Fawcette. As for the lieutenant colonel himself, he was sitting behind his desk, his back resting against his chair, a smug look crossing his sharp features.

"Very well. Bring him here," he said.

The private nodded signalled to someone outside. A few moments later, a couple more privates walked in, escorting a very angry-looking Beregond.

"I bet you don't like this situation, do you, Sergeant?" Fawcette asked, his gaze drifting on the man's handcuffs. Yes, the sight was quite gratifying indeed.

"I certainly don't," Beregond said in a low, dismayed tone. "Aren't you tired of arresting me all the time? Because, personally, I've grown sick of it."

Fawcette snorted. "Still acting high and mighty, I see. It's a pity that there are none of your friends here to save your ass this time."

"Yes, a pity that they can't see you making a fool of yourself again."

It was then that Fawcette lost his own temper. He banged his hand on the desk with such force that the privates flinched. Beregond, however, still remained glaring at the lieutenant colonel, fingers twitching.

"THE ONLY FOOL IN THIS ROOM IS YOU!" the lieutenant colonel shouted at the top of his voice. "Or did you think we wouldn't find out about you eventually?"

Beregond's eyes widened in surprise. "Find out what?" he asked.

Fawcette smirked in satisfaction. "I'm talking about your real name, Sergeant. Or should I say… William Brice?"

Beregond's surprise vanished at once to be replaced by an expression of incredulity. A snort of laughter escaped his lips. "You've finally lost it," he declared, not caring about cordiality towards _this_ higher-ranking officer.

"Or maybe I'm finally seeing through you," Fawcette said coldly. "You know that I've been searching for any information about you, that's no secret. Just like you know that I came up with nothing. But how could anyone leave no traces of his existence, not even so much as a birth certificate, and still be here before me? It's not possible.

"Unless… that person is no longer among the living."

Beregond raised an eyebrow. "So now you think I'm a ghost?"

"Hardly," Fawcette answered with a sneer. "More like someone who staged his own death."

"Even if I am who you claim, why would I do a thing like that?" Beregond asked.

"_That's_ what I want you to answer me."

"How am I to do that?!" Beregond exclaimed. "I'm not even that man!"

"There's proof that says otherwise, Sergeant!"

"I'd like to see that proof!" Beregond exclaimed angrily.

"It's on its way, don't you worry about that!" Fawcette shouted back.

Before the Gondorian had any chance to reply to that, there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Fawcette said edgily.

The door opened and a woman walked in. Fawcette instantly tensed and saluted, an action quickly followed by the other privates as well. The only one who didn't react the way he was supposed to was the sergeant; he was merely looking at the woman with mild interest and curiosity.

_So he doesn't know her._

"Miss Douglas… That's certainly a surprise," Fawcette said. "May I help you?"

"As a matter of fact, you can," Douglas answered, her face expressionless. To Fawcette, that woman was practically an iceberg. "The Führer wishes to see you."

Fawcette mentally grumbled. He was about to get the sergeant to confess, and now _this_ had to happen.

However, no one could deny the Führer's request and that was a fact. So, Fawcette didn't have all that much of a choice in the matter.

"I'm coming," he answered. He picked some of the papers that were on his desk and glared at the sergeant. "This interrogation is far from over."

"Lieutenant Colonel, this way, if you please," Douglas said, motioning her hand to the exit.

Fawcette nodded, and with one last order to his subordinates that the sergeant wasn't to go anywhere, he followed Douglas out the door.

* * *

Roy was at his desk when he heard the knock on the door. Guessing who it could be, he immediately let out a commanding: "Enter!"

Sure enough, Riza opened the door.

"Sir, we're all here," she said.

"Good. Come in."

The moment that Roy said those words, all of his subordinates walked in and stood in attention in front of him. Roy mentally smiled to see the crew with such discipline and loyalty reflected in their eyes.

"So…" he started. "Sergeant Major Kain Fuery… Warrant Officer Vato Falman… Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda… and First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye," each of the officers' posture became prouder as they heard their names, "I'm in a position to announce that I was ordered to be transferred to Central. What's more important, I was given permission to choose any officers I want to come with me. And I want you _all_ by my side. You're expected to pack any belongings you wish to take with you by tonight, so you can take the early train tomorrow morning. No objections, I trust?"

"None, Sir!" all the officers said.

"Good. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Hawkeye and I will go on ahead by car tonight," Roy said. "If anyone asks, the official answer is that we've gone to the nearby military posts for one last inspection before our departure. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" was the unanimous reply, and all the officers saluted.

"Excellent. You're dismissed," Roy said, saluting back. And with that, Breda, Falman and Fuery exited, whispering between themselves about this turn of events. Riza was about to walk out, too, but the colonel's voice made her stop in her tracks and face him.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye… How long do you think it will take for us to get to Central?"

"At a good speed of 60 miles per hour and provided we don't do any stops on the way, we should be there by tomorrow morning, Sir."

Roy nodded his acknowledgement. "Thank you. That will be all."

Riza bowed and closed the door behind her, leaving Roy to his own thoughts.

* * *

Beregond looked at the clock on the wall and heaved a fed-up sigh. It must have been a quarter of an hour since Fawcette left with that woman, and he hadn't shown up yet. Though he was somewhat relieved that that farce of an interrogation didn't continue, he had still grown weary of being stuck in this room.

There was the option of using his alchemy and transmute brick fists to hit the guards so that he would escape, of course; a _very_ tempting option at that. But, Beregond was aware that that would hardly help matters. If anything, it would probably make him seem guilty.

And so, Beregond just waited.

"Who was she?" he asked the private closest to him in his attempt to pass time.

But the private didn't answer. In fact, he didn't give so much as an indication that he had heard the Gondorian, and remained standing in attention and looking ahead. It was a wonder what the private was looking at exactly, nevertheless that's what he did.

"Really?! That's interesting!" Beregond said in a matter-of-fact tone, and then resumed with his wait.

Fortunately, five minutes later, the door opened and Fawcette walked in.

Beregond was certainly surprised to see the lieutenant colonel quite red on the face, and that wasn't all. Fawcette's whole body form was trembling, even as he took out a key from his overcoat and unlocked Beregond's handcuffs.

It didn't take a great mind to understand that Fawcette was enraged about something. The question was: what?

Beregond decided that he didn't want to know.

"Get out."

Beregond blinked and regarded Fawcette in disbelief. "What are you playing at?"

"Just get out!" Fawcette growled. "And make sure I don't see or hear from you again!"

Beregond frowned, but he had no intention of arguing about this. He bowed his head slightly, eyes locked on Fawcette warily, and then turned on his heel and walked out. He didn't bother to look back as he closed the door and headed for the exit.

He had barely turned around to the next hallway, when the same woman that Beregond had seen in Fawcette's office called him.

"Yes?" he asked, eyeing the woman curiously as she walked up to him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sergeant. I'm Colonel Juliette Douglas, the Führer's secretary. I wanted to apologise on behalf of Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette."

"I thank you for your kindness, Miss Douglas," Beregond answered politely. "But I assure you this isn't the first time I've had to deal with the lieutenant colonel's suspicious nature."

"Nevertheless, his conduct should have been better, considering your actions helped him in arresting the mercenaries who threatened to disturb the peace in Central."

"You know of that then?"

Douglas nodded. "As a matter of fact, that's the reason for my presence here. The Führer would like to see you. Right this way, if you please."

Taken aback as he was, Beregond didn't object. After all, he knew perfectly well what a Führer was, as well as how unwise it would be to refuse such a request. And so, moments later, he was following Juliette Douglas through corridors and stairs, until they reached a large oak door on the top floor. Douglas knocked and opened the door enough so that she could address Bradley in a discreet manner.

"Sir? Sergeant Beregond is here, just as you requested."

"Ah, excellent. You can send him in, Miss Douglas."

Those words made Beregond's heart miss a beat. And when Douglas told him that he could step in, his legs instantly carried him inside as though on their own accord – or rather, because he wanted to be sure that his ears didn't deceive him.

To his horror, they didn't. And all he could do besides saluting was stare with bated breath at the one face he hadn't wanted to see in this world - even though _this_ face looked younger by a couple of decades and it was missing an eye.

Even though it now belonged to a different person.

"So you must be Sergeant Beregond," Führer Bradley said, a cordial smile gracing his features. "I heard so many things about you that I just had to make your acquaintance."

"Your Excellency is only too kind," Beregond said, making sure his voice was steady. "But I'm nothing but a soldier in his service."

"Quite modest, I see," Bradley replied, his smile only broadening. He made a motion with his hand to point at the chairs in front of his desk. "Do sit down."

"Thank you, Your Excellency."

"A simple 'Sir' works for me just as well, Sergeant; there's no need for such extensive formality."

"Very well, Sir," Beregond said, correcting himself.

"Good. Do you know why you're here?" Bradley asked, resting his back against his chair, sipping his tea.

"Colonel Juliette Douglas told me that it has to do with those mercenaries that were placed under arrest."

"Placed under arrest thanks to you and Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. It's a rare thing to see such loyalty nowadays, and that's why I wanted to express my gratitude."

Beregond swallowed hard, something that apparently didn't go unnoticed by the Führer because his next words were: "No, I don't have any doubts as to your loyalty, Sergeant, even though officers like Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette seem to believe otherwise. That's why I decided that you should be spared of such accusations from now on. It's distracting for the military and it prevents the men from trying to find the real perpetrators within the ranks. Yes, there _is_ a breach in the army, Sergeant. So you see why everyone is ready to point the finger to someone else."

Beregond listened on, and yet the only words that registered were 'breach' and 'everyone's ready to point the finger to someone else.'

He didn't like what it reminded him of at all.

"That's also why I must ask you that you'll reveal none of this to anyone else. You won't speak of the incidents of Lab 5 or of the mercenaries to anyone else except the people that were with you in the hospital before your arrest. Is that understood?"

"Understood, Sir."

"I'm glad. You're dismissed, Sergeant," said Bradley. "I believe Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is already waiting for you at the exit. I phoned him to come as soon as I dealt with the matter of your interrogation."

"Thank you, Sir," Beregond said before standing up and saluting.

"It's the least I could do," Bradley answered, saluting back. And with that, he locked his gaze on the paperwork on his desk, as though not heeding the Gondorian's presence anymore.

Taking that as a sign that he could leave, Beregond turned and exited, surprised to see that Miss Douglas was waiting for him.

"This is your first time to Central Headquarters, yes?" she asked.

Beregond nodded.

"Then allow me to escort you outside. Please, follow me."

Beregond complied, wishing to study the woman further. It was strange but, the more he stared at her through the corner of his eye, the more he felt puzzled by her for some reason - especially by her facial expression.

Or rather, _lack_ thereof. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he would have ventured to say that her look was very much like a dead person's.

He cringed. After all, it wasn't the best thing to think about a woman and, more importantly, a woman that was working so close to the Führer.

Speaking of which…

"So… Miss Douglas…" he ventured. "If you don't mind my asking, how long have you been working as the Führer's secretary?"

"Almost five years," she answered simply.

"You must consider yourself very lucky."

"It was an honour I accepted gladly, admittedly."

"I'll say. They say he's done some radical changes as to how this country runs. He was the one who gave the alchemists the right to enlist in the military, giving them the title of State Alchemist, right?"

"You've done your homework, I see."

"One should know under whom he serves," the Gondorian answered. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes. Just as one should know about the people who serve him," Douglas answered then, her eyes locking on Beregond's for the first time throughout their conversation. "I believe we have a common acquaintance; a certain Professor Syndow. He spoke quite highly of you when we talked. He described you as… 'unique'."

"Indeed?" Beregond said, keeping his tone neutral.

Douglas nodded just slightly. "Uniqueness is a trait that the Führer always looks for in his men. So you must consider yourself very lucky as well."

"I suppose I must," Beregond said, careful with his choice of words.

Douglas didn't say anything this time. However, she soon stopped and addressed Beregond again. "This is as far as I can go, I'm afraid; I have to return to my duties. The exit is straight ahead. I bid you farewell, Sergeant." And with that, she turned and walked away, without as much as looking behind her. Beregond watched her go, unsure what to make of the conversation he'd had with her.

That is, until he decided that the best thing to do was keep walking toward the exit. He could only smile with relief when he saw Hughes waiting for him outside, and Hughes returned the smile just as readily.

"Good news, I take it?" Maes asked.

"Yeah… I got cleared."

"Great!" Maes grinned, patting Beregond on the shoulder. "Come on, we're heading at my place. Everyone is waiting for us there."

"Wait," Beregond said, eyes widened. "What about Edward and Alphonse?"

"They're there too. After you were taken away, Edward 'convinced' the doctor to discharge him, and he was even ready to use the same argument on Fawcette to let you go. Al had to hold him by the collar so I could leave."

Beregond stared at Maes in disbelief for a few moments, and then laughed hard. "That would have been interesting to see."

"Maybe next time you'll get arrested," Maes said, teasing along. However, his face soon sobered up somewhat, and his look changed to that of curiosity. "By the way, what happened in there? When you walked out, you looked as though you had just seen a ghost."

Beregond sighed. "In a way… I did."

And that was all he said.

* * *

King Bradley hardly looked up from his paperwork when the door opened again. He knew perfectly well who had just walked in.

"So what do you think of him, Miss Douglas?" he asked.

"He certainly knows how to be on his guard," she said. "I mentioned Professor Syndow to him and I didn't detect any reaction."

"Are you surprised? It certainly explains why we didn't get to know of him sooner," Bradley said. A frown settled on his features. "There's something else that's been puzzling me though."

"Such as?"

"The way he kept looking at me while we talked… it was as though he knew me."

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "That's impossible."

Bradley stared at Douglas hard. "Is it? Should I remind you of Edward Elric's reaction when he first looked at you?"

Douglas snorted. "That's different, Pride."

"Really? In what way, exactly?" Bradley said chuckling. He untied the patch and dropped it onto the desk, so that his covered eye would reveal itself. His ouroboros-shaped pupil locked on the female homunculus. "I'm by no means saying that he created me; I know who my creator is and I'm loyal to her. Nevertheless, let's not forget that we were created on the basis of someone else. Maybe he knew that other one."

Sloth frowned. "That seems more logical."

"That, however, could also be a problem. He could talk to someone about it and so arouse unwanted suspicions."

She shook her head. "If the Fullmetal Alchemist didn't say anything about me, then I doubt _he'll_ do anything of the sort. Still, I'll keep my eyes open."

"Good. And there's one final thing we have to deal with. According to that man Fawcette, there's some evidence that could incriminate the sergeant and have him discharged."

"Where's that evidence?"

"His superior, a Brigadier General Connors is on his way to bring it to me. What do you think it could be?"

Sloth crossed her arms. "I don't know. Whatever it is, it mustn't be seen by anyone else. We can keep a better eye on him while he's in the military."

Pride smiled, his grin maniacal and intimidating. "Don't worry. I'll take care of that."

TBC…


	7. Making Plans

When Beregond and Maes arrived at the Hughes residence, everyone there was relieved to see that the Führer had kept his word. Ed and Al quickly rushed to Beregond to ask him what happened and what Fawcette wanted, but the Gondorian never had the chance to answer them. At that moment, Maes dragged him towards Gracia and Elysia so that Beregond could make their acquaintance. What's more, Sarah and Alice were there as well, wishing to see Beregond too. Alice immediately rushed to give her friend a huge hug, and she hardly left his side throughout the afternoon.

As soon as the greetings and reunions were done, all the people that had gathered - including Winry, Armstrong and Havoc, of course - sat down in the living room and started talking in a relaxed manner.

"It fills my heart with joy to see everything's turned out well," Armstrong said, his sparkly aura as bright as always. "Will you take up again your duties as the Elrics' escort now, Sergeant?"

"That's the plan," Beregond answered with a small smile before turning to Havoc. The lieutenant was sitting close to Sarah – _very_ close, as Beregond observed. "Which means your babysitting days are over," he told the lieutenant teasingly.

Havoc chuckled. "Well, they had to end eventually. I'll see you guys off and then it's back to East City for me."

"Nope," Maes intervened. "Roy's got a new post here in Central, and everyone else from the unit is to follow him there." He grinned, looking at Havoc with a very meaningful expression. "So you don't have to go anywhere."

Havoc just rubbed the back of his head embarrassedly.

"By the way, Ed," Winry said, remembering herself, "I bought the tickets you wanted me to take."

"Oh! Thanks," Ed replied with a smile.

Gracia, who was sitting nearby with Elysia in her arms, looked at Ed with a raised eyebrow. "You're in a rush. Why don't you stay a little while longer? Give your body some more time to heal."

Edward shook his head. "We can't stay here forever. We're leaving tomorrow." He looked at Al and Beregond. "Is that okay with you two?"

"Sure," both the suit of armour and the Gondorian answered.

"Where are you going this time?" Maes asked curiously.

"Dublith."

"Which, incidentally, I have no idea where it is," Beregond pointed out.

Al laughed. "Sorry," he said. "It's in the middle of the southern area. It's the next stop after Rush Valley, to be exact."

"RUSH VALLEY?!"

It was Winry who screamed that, earning curious looks from everybody. "Yeah…" Al said, his tone showing his puzzlement at the teen girl's reaction.

"What's in Rush Valley?" Beregond asked.

"What's in Rush Valley?!" Winry echoed, star-filled eyes widening and staring at Beregond incredulously. "It's the holy land of automail technicians, that's what's there! I've always wanted to visit it at least once!" She turned to Ed, body fidgeting giddily and arms flailing excitedly. "I wanna go! I wanna go! I wanna go! I wanna go!"

"Go by yourself!" Ed said indignantly.

"Should I remind you who paid for the trip?" Winry retorted.

"Are you threatening me?!"

"Come on, Brother, don't be like that," Al said, trying to appease Ed.

"Besides, it's on our way, isn't it?" Beregond reasoned.

That made Ed huff. "Whatever…"

"Yay!" Winry instantly stood up, a broad smile on her lips. "I'm going to call Granny and tell her there's been a change of plans!"

"Wait, Winry; I'll show you where the phone is," Gracia said. And after handing Elysia to her husband, she followed Winry out of the room.

"She's pretty happy," Al noted.

"Yeah, she'll make a good wife," Maes seconded, winking at Ed.

Ed's face instantly reddened. "Don't say that to me!" he cried at once.

"Okay, sorry," Maes said condescendingly – before a teasing grin tugged his lips. "Besides, Gracia will always be the best wife!"

"And I don't want to hear about your love life!" Ed exclaimed.

Hughes decided to comply this time.

* * *

"Sir?"

Brigadier General Connors stirred and opened one eye. One of his escorts had entered the compartment and rested his hand on Connors' shoulder to shake him awake.

"Yes?" the Brigadier General asked gruffly.

"You ordered me to wake you up once we arrived in Central, Sir," the lieutenant said.

"Ah, I see." Connors sighed and rubbed the slumber off his eyes. "Dismissed."

The private obeyed with a salute, leaving Connors alone with his thoughts. As for Connors, he got up and stretched, wincing at the popping sounds his back and neck made.

Those train seats were really uncomfortable.

He looked outside the window, seeing the crowd that flooded the station. He saw the huge clock that graced one of the walls of Central Station, and he was pleased to read the time there.

_Five o'clock_, he mused. He wasn't even one second late.

Perfect.

What he didn't expect was to see Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette on the platform, waiting for him.

_That's not right. He was supposed to stay with that impostor!_

Swearing under his breath, Connors immediately picked up his things and walked out of the train, ready to scream his subordinate's ears off. Fawcette, however, proved faster.

"I couldn't keep him in custody any longer. The Führer himself wouldn't have it."

Connors stared at the lieutenant colonel incredulously. "On what grounds?"

"It's a long story," Fawcette answered in a wry manner. "I'll tell you in the car."

Connors decided that that would probably be best, so he nodded and followed Fawcette in the automobile. It was while driving towards Central Headquarters that Fawcette told him of everything that had happened. He didn't leave out anything, not even the mercenaries incident and, of course, the Führer's gratitude.

Connors clenched his jaw and punched his leg in frustration. "That cunning little…" he said with a growl. "He took the opportunity to place himself in an even more favourable position. And I bet Mustang's behind this as well. That lieutenant's presence was _too _convenient."

Fawcette didn't say anything. It was clear that he agreed with his superior.

"No matter," Connors finally declared. His fingers curled around a file possessively and a smirk formed on his lips. "After the Führer takes a look at _this_, the game will be over." He turned to Fawcette. "Have you already informed the Führer of my arrival?"

Fawcette nodded. "He says he'll see you as soon as you arrive. In fact, he's asked me to take you to him right now."

Connors nodded. "Good. The sooner we're over this, the better."

And with that, both soldiers grew silent.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at Headquarters. While Fawcette parked, Connors entered the building so as to speak with the Führer.

Minutes later, he was in front of Bradley's door, knocking at it briefly.

"Come in," a voice sounded from within.

Connors didn't have to be told twice, of course. He opened the door and walked in, saluting the Führer. "Sir."

"Ah, Brigadier General. I was told of your arrival." He turned to Douglas, who was at the moment pouring some tea in two cups. "You can go now, Colonel. You have other business to attend to, I believe."

Douglas nodded her acknowledgement and walked out with a brief salute in Connors' direction. Bradley didn't speak for several moments, since he was occupied with signing one last report; but then he directed his gaze to Connors. "Well, Brigadier General, according to your subordinate, you had something important to show me. I believe it has to do with Sergeant Beregond?"

"Yes, Sir," Connors answered. He placed the file on Bradley's desk. "This is a document that I recovered from a small village on the East. This is the death certificate of a certain William Brice, who died thirteen years ago." He pointed at the date on the file. "As you can see, Sergeant Beregond's age matches perfectly with Brice's, had the latter lived up to present day. And the age isn't the only thing that matches. This is a picture of William Brice."

Bradley took the picture Connors handed him and looked at it thoughtfully. His good eye locked again on the file.

"This man's hometown is Resembool," he noted.

Connors nodded and sipped some of his tea with a smile. Bradley's shock seemed like a good sign. "Yes, Sir. Just like the Fullmetal Alchemist. As you are probably aware, it's the very person Sergeant Beregond's been assigned to as an assistant. And, if you remember, Colonel Mustang funds both of them, in spite of their dubious past."

"Indeed." Bradley looked at Connors. "Have you spoken to anyone else about this, Brigadier General?"

"Just you and Lieutenant Colonel Fawcette, Sir," Connors answered. He took another sip of his tea, not paying attention to the almond flavour he tasted in it; he was too engrossed on the conversation.

Bradley nodded and stood up. "This is very interesting. I will have to look into this matter and see what my intelligence network can come up with. As for you, Brigadier General…"

Connors blinked, his eyesight seeming to fail him. That trip must have been more tiring than he thought at first. He looked at the Führer, confused.

The man was looking at him almost coldly.

_What…_

It was only then that he understood. He immediately stood up, trying to reach Bradley. But the man simply watched him contemptuously without so much as moving - for the arsenic had already taken effect.

Connors was dead before his body had even hit the floor as it collapsed.

"Thank you," was all that Bradley said, a strange smile forming on his lips. Taking his time, he walked up to the phone and dialled a number.

"Hello? This is Führer Bradley speaking. Please send a doctor to my office. There has just been a terrible misfortune."

* * *

Fawcette was in his office, pacing up and down as he still waited for Brigadier General Connors' return. It had already been half an hour since his superior had gone to see the Führer, and he didn't know what to make of it. Things weren't that complicated as far as he was concerned, after all. The Brigadier General would show the file, the Führer would understand that he was deceived, and then Mustang and everyone else within that infuriating man's unit would be court-martialled.

That kind of prospect made him smile in cruel satisfaction.

It was then that the door opened. However, it wasn't Connors that came in, much to Fawcette's surprise.

It was Colonel Douglas.

"Colonel," Fawcette said, standing in attention and saluting. "Can I help you?"

"I have some new orders for you," Douglas answered, an unreadable expression settled on her features. "Signed by the Führer himself."

Fawcette raised an eyebrow and took the envelope that the woman presented to him. He tore the envelope open and then looked at the papers inside.

His eyes widened when he saw what the orders were.

"Transferred?" he asked, his voice faltering.

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "If that's what the orders are, then yes."

Fawcette stared at the woman, rage building inside him. "I was under the impression that Brigadier General Connors spoke to the Führer about a very important matter. This important matter hardly justifies this transfer."

Douglas' gaze hardened. "Are you questioning the Führer's command?"

"At this point, yes. I want to speak with Brigadier General Connors, right now!" He grabbed his overcoat and opened the door, ready to walk out.

The last thing he saw was himself_, _his features contorted in a manic expression and a knife in his hand. He tried to scream, but suddenly water surrounded him and gagged him to silence.

Soon enough, Fawcette was on the ground, dead from suffocation.

"I could have handled him," the other Fawcette said. His attention, curiously enough, was on the stains of water on the floor.

The stains moved and formed one entity – Sloth. And then she was back to her woman's guise.

"The less evidence we leave behind, the better. Just play your part well and make sure everyone believes that Fawcette went North."

"Fine," Envy replied sighing. "Will you get rid of the body?"

She nodded. "Keep him in here. I'll come for him once the place is deserted."

"Locking the door it is then," Envy said with a huff, his hands already searching Fawcette's overcoat for the keys. Soon enough, the door was safely locked and he was walking along the corridor with the female homunculus. "You know, Sloth… You're really bossy, considering you're the youngest of us."

"I know what our objective is and I stay true to that, that's all."

And with that, they continued walking in silence.

* * *

"Well, Edward Elric," Armstrong said, opening the door of the third guestroom in his family's house, "I hope this will serve you just fine."

The boys could only stare at the size of the room. There was enough space to house ten full-grown men inside.

"Something tells me we'll manage," Ed answered, his eyes wide-open.

"Excellent," Alex said, beaming. "Mirabel will have some breakfast ready for you at 8 o'clock. In the meantime, make yourselves at home."

"Thank you, Major," Al said, bowing slightly his head. "And sorry for the trouble we might have caused."

"No trouble whatsoever. If there's anything that my family enjoys is having guests around. The place is livelier!" Armstrong assured Al, a big smile clearly visible even underneath his moustache. "Well, I bid you goodnight. Make sure you get plenty of rest, Edward Elric. You have a long journey tomorrow!"

"Uh… Thanks. Goodnight, Major," Ed said.

Armstrong's smile broadened at this and, at the next moment, the burly man closed the door behind him, thus leaving the brothers alone.

Ed stifled a yawn. He lazily loosened his braid, letting his hair cascade down his back. "Finally, a bed that doesn't smell of disinfectants," he murmured. He dragged his suitcase and placed it on the bed with a soft thud.

"It certainly is a nice change," Al noted. His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the various colours on the tapestry as well as the paintings and pictures that hanged on the walls. "Do you think all the rooms are like that?" he asked.

"Probably," Ed answered, ridding himself of his overcoat. "You can always look around and find out."

Al shook his head. "I'd rather not. My armour is too noisy," he said.

"That's true," Ed said thoughtfully. Once undressed, he pulled the sheets back so that he could settle on the bed. "Well, you might be able to have a peek before we leave. I'm sure the Major won't mind."

This time, Al answered with a small non-committal sound. And Ed knew by that alone that there was something bothering his little brother.

"What?"

Al sighed. "I was just thinking about Beregond."

Ed blinked, rather taken aback by that statement. "What about Beregond?"

Al faced his brother. "You mean you didn't notice?"

It was only then that Ed understood to what exactly Alphonse was referring. He brought his knees close to him and hugged them with both arms. "So it wasn't just me. He _was_ distracted."

"Yeah. And the way he talked and joked… it wasn't like him at all. It was as though his heart wasn't into it."

"And he kept wringing his hands," Ed added. "The last time I saw that was when we were hunted by Scar."

Al's eyes dimmed slightly. "Do you think Fawcette had something to do with it?"

Ed rested his chin on his arms, frowning. "I honestly don't know, Al. He has a lot of stuff in his mind right now, remember?"

"Yeah, I do," Al answered in a saddened tone. "I just wondered if we could help him. I mean, it's not just you and me in this now, Brother."

Ed smiled tiredly. "I know. And I think he knows it too, so don't worry. If there _is _anything wrong, he'll tell us sooner or later."

"I hope so, Brother," Al said. "I really do."

Little did they know that, in another guestroom at the end of the corridor, Beregond was already in bed, bathed in the darkness of the room. And yet the Gondorian couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He had become lost in thought and memory.

TBC…


	8. Shadows Of The Past

_A/n: This is a beginning of a flashback_

* * *

_Middle-earth, Year 2 of the Fourth Age_

Beregond walked along the streets of Emyn Arnen, doing his best to follow the man beside him. The sun was behind blackened clouds that covered the sky in grey colours. Even worse, torrential rain whipped him mercilessly and strands of hair clung to his face and eyes. His feet kept stepping on puddles of water, making an almost deafening sound in his ears, and he could feel his toes numbing as the cold seeped through his boots.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed back a couple of locks in mild irritation. A treacherous shudder coursed through his spine, and he pulled the cloak closer around him.

"Are you all right?" a voice asked him.

Beregond looked up. Faramir had stopped walking, and he was now looking at the captain in evident concern.

"Fear not," Beregond answered. "Let us continue on." He patted Faramir's shoulder as he passed by him. "I will not drown."

Faramir shook his head and caught up with Beregond. "Should I remind you what happened the last time you were drenched in water?"

Beregond smiled wanly. "It was my own foolishness that caused that pneumonia, my friend. Hopefully, I have grown wiser now."

"I would not count on it," Faramir said.

Beregond opened his mouth to retort the tease, but he never found the opportunity. At that moment, a cloaked figure hurried towards their direction. Both men recognised the image of the tree and seven stars on the form's breastplate. And when the man revealed his face, they recognised Captain Damrod.

"It is a relief to see you here, my lord," Damrod said to Faramir. "I apologise for calling you here, but I fear it could not be helped."

"I understand perfectly, Captain," Faramir assured Damrod. "Please, lead on and tell me what is known so far."

Damrod nodded his acknowledgement and beckoned the two men to follow him. "She was found two hours before dawn by one of the guards. He was returning to his home, since his shift had ended. At first he thought that it was a wretched drunkard, but he soon realised it was not so. He raised the alarm at once."

"Where is she?" Beregond asked then.

Beregond got his answer when all three men turned around the corner. There was a large amount of people gathered just ahead of them, whereas several soldiers had already formed a small barrier.

"That is an intriguing image," Beregond said wryly.

"Nevertheless, I do not blame their shock and curiosity," Faramir said before walking on.

Damrod and Beregond followed closely behind. As soon as the three of them approached the crowd, the people instinctively drew back, allowing them in this way to pass. The soldiers bowed their heads and stepped back also, and so Beregond soon caught sight of what once was a young woman.

She was clothed, although her clothes were soaked in water and outlining her slender form. As for her hair, it was loosened, splayed and forming an eerie halo. Her arms were bent awkwardly at her sides, and the fingers were curled unnaturally. A large cut across her throat gave everyone a good clue as to how she met her death. Beregond knew how to identify knife wounds, and this one was certainly fatal. Yet it wasn't that that sent a chill to his heart.

It was the face of terror that was reflected through her faded blue eyes.

Faramir moved closer to the body and knelt to have a better look. Beregond stood beside him, watching as Faramir took in everything: the position of the body, the look on the face, and lastly the wound.

Beregond could tell that his friend was getting more and more appalled and angry at this sight. Indeed, Faramir clenched his hands into fists to stop their mild trembling.

"Do we know who she was?" he asked, turning his gaze to Damrod.

"Her name was Adaneth, daughter of Calardan," Damrod answered. "She lived on her own ever since her parents perished."

"Did she have any other kin?" Beregond asked in turn.

"None, Sir. There was a neighbour who often conversed with her, but she is in no condition to talk to us for the present. She saw the body and that proved nerve-shattering."

"Nevertheless, you should talk to her as soon as she recovers," Faramir said.

"Of course, my lord," Damrod said.

Suddenly, Beregond heard a soldier trying to dissuade an elderly man from walking within the circle that was formed around the body. However, the newcomer wouldn't go away, and he even spoke angrily to the soldier to let him pass. Beregond instantly walked up to them, waving his hand in a commanding manner so that the argument would stop at once.

"Let him through," he said to the soldier. As soon as the soldier complied, Beregond turned to the grey-haired man and bowed his head in apology.

"Forgive me, Tirnen. I should have warned them of your arrival."

"As a matter of fact, you should have," Tirnen said, huffing slightly. "I did not abandon the warmth of my bed just so I would be pushed away like some commoner."

"I understand, Master Healer," Beregond replied. "It will not happen again."

"Good," Tirnen said, and let his gaze drift on the form of the young woman. "Oh. That is unusual."

"That is the reason we called you here," Faramir said, standing up. "We are in need of your insight."

Tirnen didn't speak at once, his gaze still locked on the murdered girl. "Judging by the locked position of her limps, I can venture to say that she has been dead for about four to five hours, perhaps even more. It seems that that cut across her throat was her cause of death, but it is perfectly obvious that she was not killed here. There is no sign of blood on the ground, and I highly doubt it rained long enough to wash it all away. And…" Tirnen put on a thick glove and lifted one of the woman's sleeves, revealing dark bruises on the now deathly white skin of her arm, "…she fought back. If I am to discover anything more, though, I will need to examine her further in the quiet of the rooms of healing."

"The soldiers will carry her for you," Faramir said. "Captain Beregond will come with you so you can tell him of your findings."

Beregond nodded in acquiescence and chose three soldiers to take the woman inside the fortress. As the men lifted her, Beregond took out his cloak so as to cover the body from the prying eyes of the people around, and then ordered Damrod to have the crowd dispersed.

Their task here was done, yet their troubles had only begun.

* * *

At that moment, Beregond wished to be anywhere else but in that room. Tirnen had undressed the body and was now taking close examination at every detail on it as though he was looking at dust on his shelves – which was quite a lot, as the captain noticed while he kept looking _anywhere _but Tirnen's direction.

Even though Beregond was currently giving a different impression, he was by no means squeamish about the sight of corpses and death. After all, he had lived through war and he had seen his own brothers-in-arms hacked to pieces without so much as losing a string of his nerve.

Still, this crime was quite different. There was a mystery about it which stimulated one's imagination, creating all sorts of atrocities and intricate possibilities within the mind's eye. It was appalling to think that someone was living and breathing five hours ago, only for the dark claws of death to grab them in such a violent way that all they could do was stare in terror.

"Captain."

Beregond finally turned to face Tirnen. "Yes?"

Tirnen sighed and covered the woman with the cloak again, clearly seeing through Beregond's unease. He removed his thick gloves and started placing back all the bottles and herbs he used for his examination. "I do not think I need to tell you that she was murdered," he said. "As I do not think I should tell you that she bled to death after the culprit cut her throat."

"No, indeed," Beregond said, swallowing.

Tirnen nodded absentmindedly, still carrying on with his work. "However, what should interest you to know was that the murderer was right-handed; the angle of the cut said so only too clearly. Moreover, I managed to get out from her lips and nose several threads of cloth, whereas there was a strange fragrance on her face which should not have been there. This signifies the murderer surprised her from behind and closed her mouth quite forcefully so she wouldn't scream. A man most likely, judging from the pressure applied to her, though not with much strength in him. Then she struggled, but finally she was subdued as the drug took effect – yes, the fragrance suggests that probability. Finally, the murderer was in no frenzied state, and he had no intentions such as violating her. There are no signs in her body that could indicate a thing like that."

Beregond frowned. "What you are suggesting is that the murderer was someone who knew perfectly well what he was doing, and he was doing it in cold-blood."

"Quite right."

Beregond felt sickened at the idea.

"Who could be capable of such an atrocity?" he breathed out.

Tirnen placed the last jar on the shelf. "That, Captain, is up to you to find out."

* * *

Beregond told of Tirnen's findings to Faramir. Faramir, who was now sitting on the great chair in the main hall of the fortress, listened to everything Beregond had to say, his eyes closed and his head bowed as he took in everything. He didn't say anything after Beregond had finished his report, though. Instead, he arose from his seat and started pacing the Great Hall, head bowed as he tried to contemplate matters carefully.

Beregond and Damrod were standing in attention, hardly stirring. Dûrinas, Faramir's advisor, sat on a chair nearby to rest his old body. And all three now watched their lord closely, waiting for Faramir to speak.

They didn't have to wait long.

"I never thought that there would come a day when I would hear of a man with such blood-thirst," he said, sighing. He turned to Damrod, his posture noticeably weary to Beregond's eyes. "Did you manage to speak with her friend?"

Damrod nodded. "She could not answer all our questions, but she could give us a fair account of all that she knew."

"So what did she say?" Faramir asked.

"That she could not understand who would do such a thing to the victim. Adaneth was of a quiet disposition and no one seemed to have any qualms with her. In fact, she had every reason to be happy, for a young man had asked for her hand in marriage, and she planned to accept."

"Do we know the suitor's name?"

It was Dûrinas who asked that, his voice slightly cracked.

"An apprentice of carpentry by the name of Thavron," Damrod answered. "He has already heard news of her death."

Beregond sighed mentally, understanding perfectly well what the young man was going through. Nevertheless, he was still the First Captain of Emyn Arnen, and he couldn't afford to be influenced by such feelings.

"Where was he at the time of her death?" he asked.

"With his apprentice at his workshop."

Faramir raised an eyebrow at this. "That is quite the strange hour for tending to his work."

"He said he wanted to finish what he hoped to be a wedding bed for himself and his wife, my lord."

"I see."

"What about other acquaintances?" Dûrinas asked.

"None who had a reason to kill her, or even the opportunity to do so. They all had alibis."

"A most odd thing," Beregond said. "Since she was attacked from behind, it means she might have known her murderer. He wouldn't have wanted her to recognise him."

No one seemed to notice Dûrinas as he locked his gaze on Beregond, a strange look in his eyes.

"Not necessarily true," Faramir said then. "By catching her off guard, he also had more chances of success." His brows creased to a deep frown and he crossed his arms. "I fear we are dealing with a predator. Someone who has had his first taste of blood and now he will not hesitate to kill again."

Beregond felt his eyes widening at this. "We should increase our patrols, and the soldiers must be notified that they should keep a look-out on anything unusual. We cannot allow such a thing to happen again."

"Indeed," Faramir replied, nodding. "What say you, Dûrinas?"

The elderly man bowed. "You are a wise man, my lord. I am sure your father, whom I also advised in the past, would have approved of such a logical train of thought. However, if I may suggest something: perhaps we should not give so much detail to the soldiers as of yet."

"Whatever for?" Beregond asked.

"Well, soldiers always want to please their lord, Captain Beregond. Surely you must understand this better than I do. What if some of them are ready to point the finger on an innocent man? That could prove quite distracting."

"Do you doubt the soldiers' judgement?" Beregond said, raising an eyebrow.

"Let us say that in their effort to protect this city, they might do so in quite the hastiness. Even if they do not act on any suspicions that might form in their minds, it will still prove an advantage to the murderer."

"I think I begin to see your point," Beregond answered, sighing.

"As do I," Faramir said. "It will be done as you say. And let us hope that this matter will be over without any more fatalities."

And with that, Faramir dismissed the captains and the advisor, unaware that his hopes would come to naught. For all the precautions and the vigilance that the soldiers kept, the murderer struck again and again, claiming the lives of eight people in a month.

The most curious thing was that the murderer didn't care who would be his next victim. Whether it was a woman or a man, young or old, wealthy or poor, it was of no consequence to him. Indeed, there didn't seem to be any connection to the deceased, something that quite puzzled both Beregond and Faramir. Beregond would have reached to the conclusion that the murderer was nothing more than a savage beast of the night but for the cruelty and ease with which the murderer performed his crimes.

That was also the reason Beregond wasn't willing to permit any chances to slip by him. He made sure Lady Éowyn and Faramir were escorted at all hours, by him personally or by any other guard he could trust. He even made a list of the names of the victims and tried to find any connection that could have been between them, no matter how indirect it was.

He came up with nothing. If there _were_ any connection, only the murderer could see it. And that cost the lives of five more people by the time Beregond and Faramir finally came across their first clue.

* * *

It was Tirnen who found it. He was examining the last of the victims, a young man who had barely come of age. Faramir was standing close by and watched, Beregond at his side and escorting him. Tirnen opened the victim's mouth to have a look inside, and both prince and knight were surprised to see the healer suddenly lean forward and murmur: "Well, well, what have we here?"

Faramir approached, eyes locked on the healer. "What is it, Master Tirnen?"

Tirnen didn't answer at once. He first picked up a small piece of metal and then used it to fish out a piece of wrinkled paper.

Beregond noticed Faramir swallowing hard at the sight and he didn't blame him. He felt just as sickened.

"What is it?" the knight managed to ask, trying to control himself.

"I do not know yet," Tirnen said. Keeping the piece of paper in place with a gloved hand, he used the small rod to unfold the paper. When he was finished, all three tried to get a closer look.

There was writing on the paper, and it was quite smudged. Nevertheless, they could easily see a circle with symbols on it.

Everyone unconsciously took a step back, shuddering before they could help it.

"Dark sorcery," Beregond breathed out. "How is that possible?"

Faramir sighed. "Though Sauron was defeated, many of his servants still linger on and use his foul craft."

"But to even consider there is someone in Emyn Arnen prepared to use it…" Beregond's voice trailed off, unable to complete his sentence. He looked at Faramir sadly instead. "Evil always has a way of poisoning its way back to our lives, does it not?"

Faramir nodded, his expression reflecting his own regret, and then he faced Tirnen. "Why do you think this was placed in his mouth?"

Tirnen scratched his white beard thoughtfully. "I do not believe it was intended to be there. There was no such thing in the mouths or stomachs of the other victims." His gaze drifted on the man's fingers, and he carefully lifted them so he could see the tips better. "Captain, give me that round piece of glass that is on the other table. Catch it from the edge, mind you."

Beregond turned and caught sight of the object the healer had told him of. Grasping it carefully the way Tirnen instructed, he handed it to the elderly man, who held it close to one of his eyes.

A contemplative frown crossed Tirnen's features as he still inspected the fingers.

"Master healer?" Faramir asked, eager to hear what Tirnen had to say.

"He put it in his mouth himself," Tirnen replied. "There are ink traces on this hand."

Faramir understood what that implied. "He probably knew he was going to die, even in the dazed state the drug must have left him."

"So he used the only means he could to pinpoint his murderer," Beregond said, catching up with his friend's train of thought. "It hardly saved him in the end," he added grimly.

"It might save others though," Faramir said. He picked up the piece of paper with a small piece of cloth and looked at the circle again. "Strange…"

Beregond eyed Faramir in surprise. "What is it?"

Faramir still kept his gaze locked on the piece of paper. "I have seen this form of dark art before."

"When?" Beregond asked, aghast at the revelation.

"Long ago, back in Minas Tirith," Faramir said. "I am quite certain I've seen it in the library during my studies in my childhood. I was looking through some manuscripts and it was on a parchment which I had not seen before. But Gandalf immediately took the parchment away from me and warned me never to search for it again." He paused momentarily, frowning at the memory. "I was taken aback to see him so fretful."

Beregond shook his head. "So it must be something terrible indeed."

"Terrible to us, but useful to the murderer," Tirnen said then. "If we could find out what this circle and its symbols represent, we might be able to get one step closer to the culprit."

"Agreed," Faramir replied. "Thank you for your time, Tirnen."

And with that, Faramir and Beregond walked out to and went the main hall, where Éowyn and Dûrinas awaited them. Both the lady and the advisor listened to everything and, as soon as his narrative was done, Faramir announced that he had something important to confide in them all.

Beregond knew by now Faramir well enough to suspect what it was Faramir wanted to say. Nevertheless, it was Lady Éowyn who spoke her mind, clearly seeing through her husband.

"You intend to go back to Minas Tirith. You will try to find the meaning of the circle." It wasn't a question.

Faramir nodded. "It will probably give us some insight on what the murderer's motivations are."

Dûrinas immediately shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't leave, my lord. At these dark times, the people of Emyn Arnen will want to feel safe. They will need your guidance."

"Yet _we_ need those answers," Beregond said.

"And we cannot afford to send someone else in my stead. I don't know exactly which parchment I should be looking for, but I distinctly remember in which section it was," Faramir said. "However, you need not to worry, Dûrinas. I am sure Lady Éowyn and you will keep things in proper order." He turned to Beregond. "Have someone prepare a horse for me. I will be leaving as soon as possible."

"It will be done," Beregond said and rushed outside to the stables.

Soon enough, Faramir's stallion was outside in the courtyard, saddled and ready to receive his master on his back. Beregond whispered to it, trying to soothe the horse's eagerness. Finally, Faramir arrived in his travelling clothes, a cloak over his shoulders and his blade buckled on his side. The horse nuzzled his master in greeting, a gesture which earned him an affectionate pat on his powerful neck.

Nevertheless, Beregond could see that Faramir didn't wish to ride away just yet. His friend's eyes darted fleetingly in all directions as though making certain that there were no unfriendly eyes or ears close by; then made a small motion with his head toward the gate.

After years of friendship, Beregond had come to know that signal all too well. _Walk with me. _Because of that, Beregond also knew that Faramir had a few last instructions meant only for him. So, the captain obediently followed Faramir, giving no notice when the horse started walking closely behind them.

"Are you certain you do not wish for any escort?" Beregond asked. "The hour grows late and the roads are dangerous during the night."

"We have already agreed that I should leave as swiftly as possible. Besides, Minas Tirith is not that far."

"Even so, I wish I could come with you."

A sad smile crossed Faramir's features. "You know that is not possible either. You have been banished from the White City. Banished because of me. And, to be perfectly honest, I do not know how long it will take me to find the manuscript. I need you here to try to find the murderer."

Beregond finally realised what his friend asked of him. "You hope that more clues will crop up on the search."

"And I will be more at ease if I know you are here to decipher them," Faramir completed.

The captain nodded. "I understand."

"Good." The prince clasped his hand on Beregond's shoulders. "Stay safe."

"You too, my friend," Beregond replied, returning the gesture.

With that last farewell, Faramir climbed up on the horse's back. Moments later, he was gone out of sight, swallowed by the dark veil of night. All Beregond could do was to take the road back to his room, one thought after another piling in his mind.

However, when he arrived at his quarters, he was quite surprised to find the door unlocked. He went inside warily, prepared for anything.

"Father?"

Beregond relaxed at once, recognising the voice. Sure enough, Bergil walked into the main room, a broad smile tugging on his lips.

"Hello. Was the surprise pleasant?"

Beregond had to admit that it was. Ever since Bergil took up his training to become a soldier and thus follow his father's footsteps, he often stayed at the barracks with the other boys of his age. So, the captain smiled broadly and walked up to him to embrace him.

"I thought you would stay at the trainees' dorms tonight," he said, one of his hands now caressing the boy's hair affectionately.

"I wanted to see you," Bergil answered simply, returning the embrace whole-heartedly. He looked up at his father's face, a small frown settling on his features. "You look tired."

"I am," Beregond admitted with a sigh. "It was a long day."

The boy's frown deepened. "It is because of that murderer, is it not?"

Beregond couldn't help it. He nodded.

Bergil immediately shook his head in disapproval. He pulled himself from his father's embrace and guided him on a comfortable chair by the table.

"_I_ will cook today," he declared. He obviously expected Beregond would try to object, because he immediately placed a finger on his youthful lips in a mother-like gesture of: _Quiet. _

Beregond closed his mouth as quickly as he had opened it, accepting his defeat. He was rewarded with a smile and a pat on his shoulder.

"It will not take long. I have learned from the best," Bergil declared, and he went to fill a small pot with water. His back was turned to Beregond, so he didn't notice his father watching him with love and a touch of pride, a small smile tugging on his lips at the care and precociousness of his son.

It was painful to realise that the world of peace Beregond had fought for two years ago wasn't meant to be.

Sighing, Beregond arose from the chair, making sure Bergil didn't notice him, and walked towards his bedroom. There, splayed on his bed, was a map of the city, and on that map he had marked the location of every victim that had been found ever since the killings had started. Now Beregond stood by the bed, looking at the map and unable but to feel frustrated at the situation.

It was only then, as he looked at the map from that distance, that he noticed it.

His marks pinpointed the location of the dead people that were discovered by dawn, but they also pinpointed the location of something entirely different.

Sewer entrances.

Beregond knelt at once, taking a closer look at the map and berating himself for not noticing this sooner. Scanning the entire map, he verified his deduction, and now he knew, beyond any doubt, that that kind of pattern was more than mere coincidence. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed his cloak and hastily put it on. He was at the door in a few strides, and he had already turned the handle to open the door.

"Father, what is the matter?"

Beregond stopped in his tracks, freezing at Bergil's voice. In his fervour, Beregond had completely forgotten about him.

"I think I have found a clue," he said, facing his son. "I need to see for myself if I am right."

"So you intend to go out on your own?" Bergil said, raising an eyebrow. He picked up his own cloak. "I think not. I am coming with you."

Beregond's eyes widened. "Bergil…"

"'Never venture alone to a situation you are not familiar with.' You always say that during lessons of combat to us trainees," Bergil said. "And you have trained me well, remember?"

Beregond stared at his son for many long moments, not sure what to say. But, in the end, he could only admit that Bergil bested him. He _had_ trained him well.

"Come along. And take your sword with you."

Bergil didn't have to be told twice. In less than five minutes, he was following his father closely behind, cloaked and armed.

TBC...


	9. Underworld

It took some time before Beregond and Bergil reached the first entrance of the sewers. It was located at the other end of the city and there many others on their way there, true. However, Beregond wanted to see the entrance near which the last of the victims was discovered. Moreover, it hadn't rained and the place wasn't as bustling with life as other areas of the city were, so Beregond hoped that he would be able to discover some clues there.

It was a strange sight to see the father and the son walking in such a hurry, torches in hand. But only the curious, yellow gaze of a black cat on the rooftops locked on them momentarily before returning to its semi-alertness for any game truly worthwhile.

It was just as well. Beregond didn't want to be seen by anyone, especially the murderer.

"Hold the torch," he said briefly to Bergil, handing his light over.

Bergil obeyed, making sure that he illuminated the spot his father was now examining. Beregond had sat on his heels, his eyes scrutinising the ground close to the iron lid that separated the houses from the other, darker world of swirling filth underneath.

Truly, the ground had markings that signified that it had been disturbed. Even so, it wasn't what dismissed all doubts within Beregond's mind as to the importance of his discovery. For Beregond could see that the lid _had_ been removed; it wasn't closed all the way as it was supposed to.

He looked up at Bergil. He could see in the boy's eyes that he had noticed it, too.

The same thought entered both their minds.

They had to go down.

Opening the lid wasn't difficult. It wasn't as heavy as it appeared. However, as soon as the opening was revealed, the man and the boy had to turn their heads away. The putrid smell that permeated their nostrils nauseated them, making them wince visibly. Beregond instantly tore off one of his sleeves, making two improvised masks for him and Bergil. He covered their noses and mouths carefully, securing the knot in place.

"Breathe through your mouth," he said, his voice coming out muffled. "And stay close to me."

He was the first to go down, stepping carefully on the iron bars that served as a ladder. As soon as he was down, he signalled to Bergil to throw the torches down to him, so that the boy had no problem coming down.

Bergil nodded his understanding and, moments later, he was once again by his father's side in darkness – he had closed the lid again. Meanwhile, Beregond had found a small recess on the wall and touched it with the torch's flaming side. There was an echoing whooshing sound as fire sprang suddenly to life, travelling ahead and devouring the oil with which the recess was coated, lighting the way.

Bergil's eyes widened to see the vastness of the tunnel, and he placed a hand on his sword, gripping the handle tightly.

"Maybe we should separate..."

"No," Beregond answered at once. He pointed at the stony path that unravelled before them, keeping the foul waters at bay. "It is this way."

"How can you be certain?" Bergil asked, surprised.

"Because of the last victim, Bergil."

"I do not understand."

Beregond faced his son. "Ponder on this: if you were a murderer, what would you do with the body?"

"Get rid of it," Bergil said at once. "The farther from me, the better."

"And how would you do that?"

"I'd drag him by the arms."

"Exactly," Beregond said. "That means the legs would point in the direction from whence the body was dragged. The direction we're facing now."

"But the place is still a maze," said the boy, shaking his head.

"Nevertheless, it is the best clue we have for now." Beregond pointed at a couple of etched markings on the wall. "You remember how to read the Dwarven runes, do you not?"

Bergil nodded.

"Good. Keep an eye on them and commit them into your memory. They will be our markers to find our way."

"I will."

And with that, the two ventured forward, stepping carefully on the narrow stony path that served as barrier to keep the water away from them. They didn't know how long and through how many arches and tunnels they walked, Beregond leading the way and Bergil on the lookout for the runes. Nevertheless, it was becoming clear to both of them that their search was more difficult than they had believed at first. And when they reached into a crossing, Beregond's grip on his torch tightened in frustration.

"Father."

Beregond turned, surprised to see Bergil looking intently on one of the corners the wall. When he walked up to his side, however, the man discovered what it was that caught his son's attention. He placed a tentative finger on the brownish stains and brought forward his torch.

"Are they--?" Bergil started.

Beregond proved faster. "Finger marks. Bloody ones at that." He cocked his head, his brows locking in a thoughtful frown, and then carefully placed his hand over the stains. "It's a left hand. And judging by the angle…" He crouched slightly. "Well, whoever's hand it was, he placed it there so he could support himself."

"Maybe because he was burdened? With a body?" Bergil ventured.

Beregond nodded. "It seems the most probable explanation for now. We are on the right track."

"So are we turning right now?"

"You catch on fast," Beregond said, his eyes reflecting his pride. "In which tunnel are we?"

"F 14," answered the boy.

"Which means we should now be on…"

Beregond never finished his sentence. He stared at the runes incredulously, stiffening.

"What is the matter?"

The captain shook his head in answer. "Probably nothing. Let us continue on." However, when he took a couple of steps more, he turned to his son again. "Bergil? This time say the runes aloud as we pass them by."

"Why?" Bergil asked, not really understanding.

"Just indulge me."

And so they set off once again. The only sounds that echoed throughout the tunnels were their footsteps and Bergil's voice, reciting the numbers as soon as he caught sight of one.

F 12… F 10… F 9… F 6… F 3… F 2… F 1… and, finally…

"F."

At that moment, Beregond also came to an abrupt halt, facing before him a large stone wall.

A dead end.

"Did we make a mistake on our way?" Bergil asked.

"No mistake," Beregond answered. His hands started fumbling the wall fervently, eyes so close that his nose almost touched the stone.

Understanding as to what his father could be looking for, Bergil started looking for any kind of latch or secret switch, too; yet there was nothing. Beregond swore under his breath, a sign to Bergil that the man was quite angry.

"It must only open from the inside," Beregond said through gritted teeth. He placed a fist on the wall, groaning his dismay at this turn of events. But, he soon regained his composure, and he was contemplating matters carefully once again. "No matter." He turned on his heel and patted Bergil's shoulder. "Let us go."

"But we were almost at the end!" the boy said, rushing beside Beregond. "We cannot abandon our search now!"

"I am by no means abandoning it, Bergil," the man replied. "We have already discovered more than we had in the last month."

"But the murderer…"

"Is someone from Faramir's household."

Bergil stopped in his tracks at once, eyes widening. "You mean that F I kept reading was… the area around the fortress?"

Beregond nodded. "And that wall was a section of the fortress itself. The murderer has his haunts behind that wall, and uses this passage to find his victims, have his way with them in some other forsaken area, and then uses it again to dispose of them."

"But everyone in the household is respected and honourable, loyal to Lord Faramir!"

"Apparently not everyone," Beregond said grimly. "The question now is who could be…?"

The man froze in his tracks, because it was then that another set of footfalls started echoing through the tunnels. Alarmed, Beregond and Bergil drew their swords and moved forward cautiously, waiting to see who was coming.

They were certainly surprised to see that it was Dûrinas who appeared from around the corner, holding a small lamp. And he was just as surprised to see the man and the boy in this place.

"Captain, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Beregond answered, his hand instinctively held in front of Bergil in a protective manner.

Dûrinas sighed wearily, as though he was about to explain things to a person with intellectual drawbacks.

"I was testing a theory of mine."

"Such as?" Beregond asked, his voice perhaps a bit harsher than he intended.

"Whether the murderer could use these passages so that he can be at every part of the city he wishes undetected. It is the only logical explanation I, personally, could come up, other than assuming the murderer to be a ghost. When I came down here, I noticed that there was light in the tunnels, so I ventured to see for myself what has been happening."

Beregond still wasn't assured though. "You came here on your own?"

Dûrinas smiled, yet that smile never reached his eyes as he regarded the captain almost coldly. "Let us say I acted on impulse. In much the same way as you foolishly brought your son with you."

Beregond clenched his jaw, not expecting the retort. Bergil, on the other hand, seemed as though he was ready to voice his own objections at such words, but his father stopped him at the last moment.

"Very well," he said, deciding to accept Dûrinas's explanation for the present. "It would seem that we were spared from encountering the murderer anyway."

Dûrinas nodded. "Indeed. We should be going back, though, before we push our luck any further." He beckoned the man and the boy to follow him. "Did you find anything else while here, Captain?"

Beregond, who was now walking between Dûrinas and Bergil, thought of his options carefully before answering. After all, there was this terrible suspicion that someone from the household was the culprit behind those murders. That meant Beregond didn't know who he should trust. On the other hand, he didn't want to show Dûrinas that he was currently under suspicion as well.

So there was no other option but to answer quite evasively: "Nothing palpable."

"I see," Dûrinas said. "Do you intend to report to Lady Éowyn?"

Beregond frowned at the question. "Yes."

The shadows that flickered on Dûrinas prevented Beregond from noticing a strange gleam in the old man's eyes.

"Should you not wait until you _have_ something palpable, Captain?"

That tone made Beregond feel more than just a little comfortable. And that was the only reason he answered: "She needs to know what her husband said to me before his departure."

Dûrinas didn't say anything this time. He simply led the father and the son back to the surface in silence, hardly seeming to acknowledge his companions anymore.

TBC...


	10. The Price Of Immortality

A month passed, and the number of victims was only increasing.

Beregond was now at his wits' end. One night, he had placed several teams in certain key sections of the sewer maze in the hopes that the murderer would be ambushed, but that resulted in two of the soldiers ending up dead; murdered when they were out of their comrades' sight. The only thing that Beregond could make out of this dual homicide was that one of the soldiers had only half-drawn his sword, whereas the other had never even reached for his weapon.

That, however, led Beregond to an important deduction. The murdered soldiers were no fools and they knew how to be on their guard. However, the murderer still managed to approach them closely enough and so kill them. The knife was in the soldier's throats before they had the chance to draw their swords.

That meant the soldiers _allowed _the murderer to approach them. Allowed him, because they didn't feel threatened - because they _knew_ him.

That, in consequence, proved once more that the culprit was someone of Faramir's household.

The question was… who? Beregond tried to locate everyone who seemed to be acquainted with both soldiers in the hopes of narrowing down the list of potential murderers, yet the list was still long. So he tried to narrow it down again by taking out the people who were confirmed they couldn't read or write. And when that list proved long again, he took out all the names of the people who hadn't previously worked in the library of Minas Tirith – anyone who couldn't have possibly seen the circle of the dark sorcery.

Only Lady Éowyn was excluded this time. He himself, Dûrinas, all the captains and some of the soldiers, as well as a significant number of servants, were among the suspects. And when he tried to narrow the list down to those people who had no alibis that night, he reached to a dead end. Everyone had one, and he couldn't possibly tell who was the one lying.

And so, all that Beregond could do now was wait for two things: either the murderer to make a mistake that would cost him his identity, or Faramir's return in the hopes of finding any further evidence.

* * *

Troubled sleep had already claimed the captain when the sound of a knock on the door stirred him to wakefulness. Opening his eyes with a sigh, he forced himself to get up. He gripped his sword so he would be prepared to fight, if need be; then opened the door slightly.

He almost jumped when he saw a cloak-covered man standing by the door, but then the newcomer's eyes locked on his. Beregond felt his heart missing a beat.

"Faramir…"

"Shh… Not here," Faramir said at once, a finger placed over his lips to signify the need for silence. He quickly stepped inside Beregond's room, pulling the hood down and veritably collapsing on one of the captain's chairs.

Beregond gasped as he caught a good glimpse of his friend's face under the candlelight. Faramir looked awfully pale, as though he hadn't slept in a long time. Not only that, but he noticed that slight wincing expression on Faramir's face as the prince sat down.

"How hard were you riding to get here?" Beregond asked, taken aback.

"It is of no importance," Faramir answered. His voice came out raspy and croaked, hardly the powerful timbre that Beregond was used to.

"I will fetch you some water," the captain declared, but he only managed to take two steps before Faramir grabbed him by his arm.

"Leave it! This cannot wait!"

Beregond stared at Faramir for many long moments, trying to decide whether his friend was maddened by weariness. However, it quickly dawned on him that this wasn't so. His eyes widened, and he sat down, facing the other man.

"Did you discover what that circle was?" he asked anxiously.

Faramir nodded. "And now I realise why Gandalf would not let me know of it. The evil behind it is powerful and old, and I still feel tainted after reading about it."

Beregond swallowed hard, mentally shuddering at his friend's words. "What is that circle?"

Faramir didn't answer at once. He leaned forward, as though afraid that the very walls would try to listen to his revelation.

"Beregond… what do you remember about Númenor?"

The captain blinked his surprise, unsure what to make of that question. "Only the stories my father would say about it. How it was blessed by the Valar and how it was finally destroyed because of Sauron's corruption. But how is this related to the circle?"

"Do you not remember?"

Beregond sat back, his mind going back into the time that his father told him about Númenor in an attempt to understand what his friend was telling him.

And then, it finally dawned on him.

"A temple with a circle at its base, where Sauron resided and the corrupt Númenóreans worshipped him… this is the same circle?" he said, his voice no more than a soft murmur. He found it difficult to utter such a despicable possibility.

Faramir nodded. "And there is more to it." He reached for the inner part of his shirt, where there was the piece of paper with the circle on it. "The corrupt Númenóreans worshipped Sauron by making sacrifices on his behalf. They would place the victims in the centre of that circle, slit their throats and let their blood flow out, all the while praying to Sauron to offer them immortality."

"Slit their throats? Just like…?"

Faramir nodded again.

Beregond felt the blood drained from his cheeks. "So what you are suggesting is that someone recalled that ritual, and now he is using it to gain immortality for himself."

"Yes."

"But, Faramir… The Imperishable Flame, the very life within our bodies, can only be granted by Eru. Sauron could never offer that kind of gift, much less now that he's gone to the Void."

"And yet that circle offered precisely that."

"What are saying?"

"Is it not obvious?" Faramir said. "Of course the forces of darkness could never _create _life. But they could easily take the life of others and distort it for their own means."

"You mean the way Orcs used to be Elves once that the Dark Lord tortured and mutilated?" Beregond asked.

"Yes." Faramir held up the piece of paper and pointed at the circle. "This is the product of such sorcery; a medium to obtain what they cannot create."

"Is that even possible?" Beregond wondered.

"According to the book I read, it is," Faramir answered. "Our blood contains part of the Imperishable Flame. If it was spilt in that circle, the circle had the power to absorb the Flame and keep it there, ready to be used by someone who knew how to unlock that power."

"Someone like Sauron," the captain said. "That is why he insisted on those sacrifices. He wanted the Imperishable Flame for himself."

"Precisely. And now the murderer is after that very same thing. He hopes that, if he obtains enough of the Flame he can wield it and use it onto himself, thus becoming immortal."

That proved too much for the captain, who rested his head against his hands in an attempt to take in everything Faramir told him.

"Valar, save us…" He locked his gaze on Faramir again. "Could the librarian tell you who consulted those papers last?"

Faramir shook his head. "There is a new one now, replaced after the previous one died a year ago. He couldn't possibly tell me anything. However," he continued on, "that circle must be somewhere within the city. If we find it, we might be able to find the murderer as well."

"And I think I have a pretty good idea where it is." And with that, Beregond told his friend of everything that he had come across in the last month, as well as his conclusions and suspicions.

"So it is someone within the fortress?" Faramir finally said, once Beregond had finished his narrative.

"It has to be," Beregond answered. "Everything is pointing to that direction."

"Even though they all claim to have alibis?"

Beregond nodded. Faramir sighed and closed his eyes, a rueful expression settling on his tired features.

"They say I can read the hearts of men, yet I always seem to be proven blind! First my father and now…"

But Beregond didn't let him continue. He clasped his friend's shoulders with both hands, making him look into his eyes. "Stop it. You do remember what Gandalf said, do you not? Evil always has a way of concealing itself from the eyes of the righteous. That is what happened now, but no more."

Faramir didn't speak for many moments. However, Beregond's words must have registered within the prince's mind, because he lifted a hand to pat his friend on the shoulder. "You are right. Forgive my glum disposition."

"You are simply tired," Beregond assured him. "You should have some rest."

"No one knows I am here. I have used the secret passages to come and confide in you before we do anything else. And, besides, I have had worse, my friend."

"Perhaps, but even the great descendants of Húrin need to strengthen themselves," the captain answered with a teasing chuckle, standing up. "Come on, I will prepare Bergil's bed for you."

It was then that Beregond stopped in his tracks, his heart missing a beat as a terrible realisation dawned on him. And when he heard a sudden gasp and turned to see a stunned expression on Faramir's face, it was evident that the same thought had occurred to his friend as well.

"The bloodline…" they both breathed out.

They had just found out the connection between the victims. And as they realised that, they both left Beregond's quarters and walked hurriedly down the hallway.

"It is all clear now," Faramir said. "He chose the people whose Imperishable Flame was stronger within them; those whose Elven blood was not completely spent in their veins. It provided him far more quickly the power he was in need of."

"It certainly appears to be so," Beregond seconded. "What I do not understand is why did he not come after you?"

Faramir shrugged. "For a number of reasons. For one, I was well-guarded. Moreover, if he had attempted anything against my person and succeeded, he knew that he could never get away with murdering me – _you _would have made certain of that. And, I want to believe that he is not all corrupt. There is probably some twisted sense of loyalty which prevents him from harming me."

"His corruption shows where his loyalties truly lie," Beregond said grimly.

"And now it is time to put an end to it," Faramir answered, and knocked on Dûrinas's door. When there was no answer, Faramir knocked on it again. Finally, at the third time, the old man opened the door, eyes widened at seeing who it was before him.

"My Lord? When did you come back to Emyn Arnen?" he exclaimed.

"Surprised?" Faramir said in a dark manner to which Beregond wasn't accustomed. "May the captain and I enter? I have some news to share with you."

"Of course," the old man said, stepping aside, beckoning the two men inside with a motion of his hand. He closed the door as soon as the prince and the captain stepped in. His expression masterfully concealing any emotion, he knitted his bony fingers together. "May I ask what the news is?"

"As you very well know," Faramir started, "I set off for Minas Tirith more than a month ago in the hopes of finding any useful information concerning a symbol of dark sorcery which one of the victims kept safe within his mouth until his death." Beregond caught sight of a small motion of Faramir's eyes and he understood had he had to do. He took two steps closer to the door.

If Dûrinas registered that movement, he certainly didn't show it as he asked in a quite natural tone: "And what did you find?"

"That it is a symbol of history. It was used by the Númenóreans of old in sacrifices in order to honour their new lord, Sauron," Faramir said. "The very evil that filled Men's heart with fear and despair at the prospect of death and so had them come up with all sorts of means and tricks to prolong their life. Even steal their comrades' life-force, if need be."

Dûrinas didn't speak.

"And that was what finally made me realise the connection between the victims. They were all direct descendants of those Númenóreans who survived the destruction of their homeland. Their blood did not match an immortal Elf's, of course. But there was enough life-force within them that they easily qualified as the next best choice."

_Here it comes,_ Beregond thought, his hand resting on his sword.

"Of course, locating those descendants could prove challenging for one who did not know of the bloodlines. Gondor and Ithilien are vast lands, after all, and many people reside within them. However, this task would be easier if that someone registered all the newborns and kept a track of their family tree for archive purposes – because he was already assigned to such a duty by their lord."

Dûrinas still remained silent; yet it was only too clear what was going through his mind. Faramir stepped close to the old man, locking his gaze on the wrinkled face.

"Why, Dûrinas?"

"I did not want to die. Should there be any other reason?" The answer was quiet, but without a trace of regret. "If you can, it is difficult not to try."

"At the expense of others?" Faramir cried, revulsion in his every word.

"Even at the expense of others," Dûrinas replied. "Do not misjudge me, I did not take pleasure in killing them, but it was necessary. Once I had enough, I would stop and this matter would be forgotten.

"But then you found the circle, and I couldn't dissuade you from searching for it. All I could do was hurry up and finish this before I was discovered." He suddenly faced Beregond, sparks of hatred within his grey depths. "And then _you_ discovered my means of moving about without being missed and placed the guards in the sewers, making things even more tasking."

"Should I apologise?" Beregond asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Dûrinas said in a sneering tone. "I just wanted to say that, even so, I am just one step away from my goal. And I will not allow my plans to fall apart now."

Suddenly, Dûrinas let two strange balls slip from his long, loose sleeves and fall on the floor with a cracking sound. Smoke filled the entire room, blinding Faramir and Beregond, and, by the time the smoke was dissolved, Dûrinas was gone.

Both men cursed loudly as they realised they had been tricked.

"I'll raise the alarm. He won't be able to go too far away." Beregond said. He immediately went to one of the windows and raised a candle three times. Once he got a similar signal from one of the guard posts nearby in response, he knew Damrod would be notified at once. That system had been perfected long ago. But when he turned around, he saw that Faramir was frowning, his eyes reflecting his dismay. "What is it?"

"He is just one step away from his goal…" And with that, he pointed at a small table nearby, where a piece of paper was left forgotten. A piece of paper with a list of names on it; the victims' names, now crossed out.

Crossed out except for two. And when Beregond read them, he rushed out of the room as though Sauron himself was after him.

Because one was _his_ name and the other was Bergil's.

* * *

When Beregond arrived at the barracks, he was horrified to see that his worst fears had come true. Captain Damrod was already there and his news was ill indeed. The door to Bergil's quarters was ajar, whereas the room itself looked as though the boy had put up quite the fight before he was taken away. Feeling as though drowning in the sea of emotions that washed through him, Beregond nevertheless still managed to think clearly enough. He ordered Damrod to contact Lady Éowyn at once, and he ran back to his own room, soon to be joined there by Faramir.

"What are you doing?" the prince asked, eyes widened.

Beregond grabbed the map that was still on his bed, and frantically started scanning it with his eyes. "After my venture underground, I tried to locate the room that was behind that dead end I reached. I circled the area on the map, but since there were several rooms, I could not determine the exact place for certain. That is, until now."

"What made the difference?"

"Dûrinas. Whenever I asked him about his whereabouts at the time of the murders, he answered that he was at the library. That means…"

It was then that he found what he had been looking for. Without missing a beat, he ran out of the room again, this time with Faramir close at his heels, hoping that he wouldn't be too late.

Little did Beregond know that he was running to his death, and to the most unlikely destiny imaginable.

TBC...

* * *

_A/n: And that is the end of the flashback. We'll be back in the regular timeline at the next chapter._


	11. Departure

Edward sighed and opened his eyes slowly. The warmth of the sunrays that showered him dotingly had woken him up quite pleasantly, filling him with more energy than he had in a long time. He stretched with a smile, a purr of contentment escaping his lips, and then he sat up.

"Good morning, Brother."

Ed's smile broadened at seeing Al sitting close by. "'Morning. What's the time?"

"It's still early. I heard a grandfather clock chiming 7 o' clock some time ago," Alphonse answered.

Raising an eyebrow in mild surprise, Ed reached with his flesh hand for his watch on the nightstand. He whistled when he saw the time. "7.15. Do you think there's anyone awake?"

"I don't know," Al said with a shrug.

"Damn it…"

"Brother?"

"I'm hungry," Ed explained.

"Oh!" Al finally realised the nature of his brother's predicament. "We could go to the kitchen on our own and try to make something."

"Okay… Do you know where the kitchen is in this multi-floored Armstrong maze?"

"No… not really," Al answered, scratching the back of his helmet embarrassedly.

Ed sighed. "Neither do I." He got off the bed in order to get dressed. "Well, looks like we'll have to search for it. Come on, Al."

It turned out that the brothers didn't have to do any searching after all, though. They came across one of the maids on their way downstairs and she informed them that breakfast was always served at 8 o'clock sharp, a habit passed down in this household for generations.

Of course, that also meant Ed would have to wait till eight for any kind of meal. His stomach demonstrated its dissatisfaction with a loud growl, but there was nothing for it. He sat on the stairs with a frown, trying to think of something to do and distract his mind.

"Hey, Brother! Come and look at this!"

Ed turned around. The suit of armour had gone all the way down the stairs and across the hall, and he was now looking inside a room. Feeling curious, Ed walked up to Al and got a peek also.

He caught himself gaping at the sight. Inside the room were bookcases upon bookcases, all of them filled with…

"Are those…?" he started, faltering significantly.

"Yeah," Al breathed out his answer, his amazement quite clear in his voice.

At the next moment, the boys rushed in and tried fervently to decide which alchemy book they should check out first. But, because there were so many of the books and they could only afford that much time, they finally decided to close their eyes and let their hands pick one at random for them.

Both gauntlet and metal arm rested on the same book; a large, thick one with leather cover. That wasn't what made the greatest impression on the boys though. It was the age of the book itself. The leather was enamelled at the sides with intricate golden patterns; its pages were yellowed, dog-eared and felt odd as Edward let his flesh fingers examine their texture. As for the writing itself, it was archaic. There was no mistaking the bold characters and stylish lettering.

"This is incredible!" Al said excitedly. "How old do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Ed answered, his eyes locked on it and still examining it with quite the scrutiny. "Still, it's definitely old." His gaze drifted to the title of the book, written in red. "_The Mastery of Fire_. Hmm… Looks like a book on Flame Alchemy to me."

"Actually, no, Edward Elric. 'Fire' is an old name for alchemic power."

Both boys jumped at the timber of Alex Armstrong's voice sounding so close to them. "Major!"

Alex's aura brightened as he smiled, and he walked up to the brothers. He too was fully dressed, apparently on his way to have some breakfast. "Mirabel told me you might be here. Do you like the library?"

Both Ed and Al nodded enthusiastically. "There are all sorts of books here that weren't in any of the State Libraries we've visited," Ed admitted. "Are they yours, Major?"

"Indeed, Fullmetal," Alex said. He pointed at the book Ed was currently holding. "This book, in particular, has been with the Armstrong family for generations. It's more than four hundred years old; one of the few to have survived that dark time, in fact."

"Dark time?" Al asked.

Alex nodded gravely. "It was a time when alchemists were arguing amongst themselves about main principles on Alchemy. Little is known about it, but what is certain is that a lot of alchemists were condemned about their ideas and any knowledge that could have been preserved and treasured was lost forever."

"What kind of ideas?" Ed asked curiously.

Alex crossed his arms and closed his eyes as he thought hard. "I can only tell you bits and pieces of it really, for it has been quite some time since I studied this. However, the basic idea is this: though it's now established that alchemic power can be evoked by circles which represent its circulation, this kind of power is coming from the bowels of the earth, and it transforms the material world.

"These labelled heretics, on the other hand, took that principle even further. Without denying the alchemical fire of the material world, they also believed that an alchemist could also employ spiritual fire, whose source was the human soul. Consequently, a true alchemist could employ both kinds of power to transform the natural world.

"That's an odd idea, considering no one knows for sure what the soul is exactly," Ed said thoughtfully.

"And that was the basic argument of the opposing party," Alex said with a nod. "For how can you use something when you don't understand its nature first?"

"Still, it makes some sense," Al said then. "Since the main material for a philosopher's stone are human lives, there must be some truth behind this theory, isn't there?"

"Indeed. But back then, young Elric, the world was different," Alex replied. "Alchemy wasn't as advanced as it is now, and such ideas were still considered sheer madness."

"And those alchemists that supported them paid the price for it," Ed said, sighing. "Does this book say anything further on this?"

Alex didn't answer at once. He simply smiled enigmatically and took the book from Edward's hands. The boys thought at first that that was the major's way of saying that he had grown tired of their questions, but the burly man simply opened the book on a particular page and gave it back to them.

"Copy that excerpt in your journal. Work on it on your journey. If you manage to interpret it correctly, you will find your answer." And with that, Alex turned on his heel and headed to the door. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes," he added, and he was out of sight.

Ed and Al exchanged a puzzled look.

"What do you think he meant by that?" Ed asked.

"I guess that it's a knowledge we should earn," Al answered with a shrug. He looked at the book curiously. "What does the text say?"

"Let me see," Ed said, and started reading aloud. "_Take a sword in your hand, then seek the entrance, for narrow is the opening. A dragon lies at the entrance, guarding the temple. Lay hold upon him; immolate him; strip him of his skin, and taking his flesh with his bones, separate the limbs; then laying the limbs together with the bones at the entrance of the temple make a step of them, mount thereon, and enter, and you will find what you seek – the priest, that bronzen man who can become the silver man; and, if you will, you will soon have the golden man._"

"What do you suppose that means?"

"No idea," Ed answered, shaking his head. "But I guess it's important." And so the young alchemist took out a pen and his journal out of his pocket and started copying everything.

* * *

When Ed and Al entered the kitchen, they were pleasantly surprised to see that Major Armstrong wasn't the only person there. Havoc had woken up also, and even Hughes and Winry had arrived at the Armstrong mansion. As Maes reasoned, it would be best if they all departed for the station from one place.

"So are you guys packed?" Winry asked, watching the boys sitting at the table.

"Yup, all ready," Al said.

"Or we will be as soon as Beregond wakes up," Edward completed.

Havoc frowned slightly at this. "He's still sleeping?"

Ed shrugged, while his hands reached for the delicacies on the table and putting them on his plate. "He isn't here, so that's the most logical explanation."

Havoc nodded his understanding, yet his frowning expression remained. That was why Al finally decided to ask: "What's wrong, Lieutenant?"

"I was just thinking," Havoc said, pursing his lips slightly. He turned to face the two boys, eyeing them with a raised eyebrow. "Did you see him sleeping?"

Ed froze at the question, his toast held mere inches away from his mouth. But Al, apparently, understood, because his red flickers of eyes dimmed as he answered: "No."

"What's wrong?" Winry asked, her cobalt-eyes widened in mild concern.

Maes and Armstrong looked at the boys and Havoc with interest, the same question on their features, so Havoc was forced to speak his mind a bit more clearly.

"He has barely slept these past few days."

"Well, that certainly explains why he looks like the dead," Maes said. "However, that doesn't mean anything. His weariness probably caught up with him."

"Maybe," Havoc said. But his tone showed that he was more hopeful than anything else.

"Let him rest while he can," Alex said reassuringly. "There is a difficult journey ahead of you."

"But what about breakfast?" Winry said wonderingly. "Won't he be hungry on the train?"

Havoc, Ed and Al shook their heads in unison. "His stomach won't stand any food," Havoc said.

"_We_ learnt that the hard way," Ed said, shuddering a bit at the memory.

"Don't tell me," Maes said then. "He still hates trains?"

Seeming as though they had been practising this, Ed, Al and Havoc nodded in unison once more.

Armstrong clicked his tongue several times in disapproval. "This won't do. He's been in Amestris for ten months. He should be more acquainted with them by now."

"Not really," Winry said, looking hard at Ed's direction. "I know someone who's hated milk for the last sixteen years."

"You just _had_ to bring up milk in this conversation, didn't you?" Ed muttered through gritted teeth.

"I'll keep bringing it up until you finally get some sense and start drinking it!" Winry answered back.

"I hate what I hate, okay?" Ed snapped, his teeth now resembling fangs in his indignation.

"Don't be selfish, Edward Elric!" Armstrong exclaimed.

"Yeah, Brother! You're eating for two people, remember? How will _I_ get taller if you don't drink some milk?" Al said.

"Argh!" Ed finally cried out, that kind of siege proving too much. "You know what? I'll just go check on Beregond."

And with that, Ed practically rushed out of the room in order to get away from his terrible fate.

"Jeez, what the hell is wrong with them?" Ed said to no one in particular once he deemed that he was safe. "Stupid cow-juice…" He kicked at an invisible stone on the rich carpet, mentally cursing that foul drink whose only purpose seemed to be to make his life a misery. When he felt his frustration subsiding, Ed sighed.

"Well, I guess now I can _really_ check on him."

So, the young alchemist walked up the stairs and down the hallway to where Beregond's room was.

But, when he reached the door and got ready to knock, the young alchemist hesitated. If Beregond was sleeping, Ed didn't want to wake him up just yet – they had some time left before leaving for the train station.

On the other hand, he couldn't help but feel curious now. And he'd rather be anywhere else than in the kitchen where disgust-in-a-glass was waiting for him.

Finally making up his mind, he placed his flesh fingers on the doorknob and turned it, waiting at any given moment to realise that the door was locked.

It wasn't. At the next moment, the door had slid open quite inaudibly and Ed had walked in.

Ed took two steps inside, and then his ears picked up the sound of sheets rustling. The boy instinctively grew perfectly still, but it was too late. His eyes had by now adjusted to the semi-darkness of the room, and Ed could clearly see the Gondorian's form sitting up, the familiar green-hazel eyes locking on him.

"I didn't mean to wake you up!" Ed said quickly, tensing instinctively.

"You didn't."

Ed blinked, mildly surprised at the Gondorian's soft tone.

_I didn't wake him up?_

So his weariness didn't catch up with him yet.

"Is it time for us to go?" Beregond's voice cut into Ed's train of thought.

"No," the boy said at once. Deciding that there might as well be some light in the room, he walked to the window and opened the shutters. As soon as the sunlight rushed in, Beregond covered his eyes with a small grunt, giving the chance to Ed to study the man further.

If Beregond looked like the dead the previous night, now he resembled a ghost. The colour on his face almost matched the colour of the sheets.

Ed winced mentally. "How come you didn't come down?" he asked unusually softly, settling on the bedside.

Beregond shrugged. "I suppose I wanted to have some time on my own."

Ed tilted his head, eyeing the man curiously. "Why?"

"To think of some things."

That made Ed sigh. "There's daytime for _that_, you know."

Beregond's lips tugged to a half-smile. "I'll remember that next time."

Ed meant to reply to that, but he never had the chance. Winry walked in, carrying the glass of milk and a very annoyed look in her eyes.

"If you think you can get away by sitting here all day, think again," she declared. She placed the glass on the nightstand, not paying attention to Ed's revolted expression. "When you come out, this had better be empty. And don't you dare throw it in a pot or out the window; Beregond will be witness."

And with that, she was out again, leaving a very sickened Ed and a very intrigued Beregond behind. Neither man nor boy spoke for some time, trying to process what had just happened.

"You hate milk?"

Beregond's tone was surprised – even amused.

"Please, don't _you_ start with that!" Ed bowed his head, feeling a single drop of sweat near his temple. A light-hearted chuckle reached the young alchemist's ears, and he couldn't help but blush furiously in embarrassment at his childishness. He couldn't help it though.

And when Beregond prodded him to look up and he saw the man holding the glass, he couldn't help but scowl.

"Are you really going to make me drink it?"

Beregond shook his head, still smiling. "It isn't in my place to force you. But I think I can tell you a little story if you want me to."

Ed's annoyance vanished to be replaced by intrigue. "Okay… Sure."

* * *

"He's not gonna drink it," Havoc said.

"He'd better drink it," Winry retorted, the wrench already in her hands.

"Winry, please don't hit him too hard," Al pleaded. "He's the only brother I've got."

"Wait," Maes said then. "I think I can hear footsteps coming in this direction."

Everybody pricked up their listen. Sure enough, Ed came rushing into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the table. When he located what he wanted, he turned to the others, a surprisingly exuberant look on his features.

"Have you guys finished breakfast?"

Armstrong nodded, his whole countenance beaming. "Indeed, Edward."

"So you won't need the jug with the milk anymore?"

Everyone exchanged a bemused look. "No," Al finally answered.

"Great!" Suddenly, Ed grabbed the jug and hurried upstairs, shouting: "Hey, Beregond! I've got more!"

The stunned silence that reigned in the kitchen after that display lasted for quite a while. And when everyone's ability to speak finally returned, they could only utter one question.

"How did _that_ happen?"

Wishing to find out, Al walked up the stairs, only to come face to face with the Gondorian at the hallway.

"What did you do?" he asked Beregond.

Beregond grinned. "Just a little trick I happen to know," he replied. "When do we have to be at the station?"

Al made a small noise in thought and then answered: "About 9.30."

"Give me twenty minutes," Beregond said, and then vanished into the bathroom with a towel and a razor in his hands, leaving a very confused Alphonse behind.

"Hi, Al."

Alphonse turned around, just in time to catch sight of Edward going down the stairs and now holding an empty jug.

If the suit of armour could, he would have blinked his bewilderment.

"How…?"

* * *

At 9.20, the Central Station was already bustling with life, filled with people who were ready to depart for their own destination. But it seemed that one certain group, consisted mainly of soldiers of the State, was particularly vocal.

"Do you want me to carry your bags for you, children?"

"We aren't children!"

"Brother, be more polite!"

"On which platform should you be again?"

"Platform 2."

"Hurry up, guys! There's a surprise waiting for you there."

"Surprise?"

A very pleasant surprise, as it turned out. Because when they arrived at the platform, the boys, Beregond and Winry were delighted to see that some other acquaintances had come to see them off.

"You're right on time," Second Lieutenant Ross commented, a broad smile on her face.

"Did you doubt it?" Sergeant Bloch said, smiling just as broadly. "The Major would make sure they arrived on time."

"The Major and my husband both," Gracia completed, holding Elysia in her arms.

The four companions couldn't help it. They gaped in disbelief. Ed was the first to come round from his startled stupor, and he pointed at Hughes. "Did you do this?"

Maes chuckled. "I know you aren't fond of big goodbyes, but I thought you should make an exception this time." He paused to wink in Havoc's direction. "I would have brought more, but she had to go through some files with my secretary. Sorry."

"W-why are you telling me that?" Havoc said, trying to keep his tone neutral and failing miserably.

"Because he isn't blind," Beregond murmured near Havoc's ear in a teasing tone, and patted the lieutenant's shoulder.

That made Havoc blush furiously. Thankfully, everyone else seemed too busy exchanging goodbyes to pick up that reaction.

However, Havoc himself managed to pick up _someone else's_ odd behaviour.

Truth be told, it wasn't that obvious. To everyone else, Beregond probably seemed to be acting normally, despite the fact that he was tired. But for some reason that Havoc couldn't precisely place, he knew that the Gondorian was troubled, even anxious, over something.

The sound of the piercing whistle of the train cut Havoc violently off his thoughts.

"Time for you to go."

"Stay safe."

"And come back soon."

"We will. Thank you all for everything." And with that, Ed, Al, and Winry got on board.

On the other hand, Beregond hesitated. And what everyone else probably interpreted as hesitation to enter the train, Havoc knew that it was Beregond's despair-filled attempt to make up his mind over that same something that was tearing him inside.

At the second whistle, Beregond had reached his decision. Turning on his heel, he wrapped his arms around the closest person's neck at the time – Havoc's.

Everyone else probably thought that the Gondorian wanted to say goodbye to a good companion.

But Havoc heard the urgent whisper and everything finally fell into place.

Still, he didn't find the time to say anything, because it was then that the third whistle blew and Beregond sprang aboard. And so, as the train started moving forward, all Havoc could do was follow the others' example and keep waving back to the departing travellers until the train was gone into the horizon.

"And so we part," Armstrong said, sighing. None attempted to comment on the streams of tears that were rapidly flowing down his face.

"Yeah," Maes replied, and he turned to Gracia to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "I'll take you home."

"Daddy, will Winry come back?"

"Of course she will," Maes said, tapping his daughter's nose playfully.

"Sir," Ross said then, saluting. "Allow Sergeant Bloch and me to return to our duties back at Headquarters."

"That won't be necessary; I will take you there," Alex said, his shiny countenance visible once more. "Will you come as well, Lieutenant Havoc?"

Havoc declined politely. He wanted to remain alone with his thoughts for a while, though he didn't say that to the Major. He merely said that he wanted to take a stroll around Central, a wish that wasn't denied by the others. Soon enough, Havoc was out of the station, nodding goodbye and walking away, hands in his pockets and Beregond's voice echoing in his mind.

_Bradley is Dûrinas._

"What were you trying to tell me?" he murmured to himself.

Little did Havoc know that his every move was being watched. And he was certainly caught by surprise when, just when he was about to walk across another street, a strong hand made him turn around.

When he came face to face with _himself_, however, numbing shock overwhelmed him and he could only stare incredulously.

No… not himself.

The colour of the eyes was wrong.

"Surprised, Lieutenant?"

TBC...


	12. The Key

The girl dodged the rocky spears with moderate ease, but she couldn't do anything when a huge icy hand pushed her down, pinning her on the ground.

"You need to learn to think faster, girl," Dante said, her voice taunting. Her hands were placed on a small pond nearby, and there was an almost contemptuous expression on her austere features.

Lyra didn't even bother to reply to that. She was being too busy trying to escape her predicament. She kicked, she screamed, she even twisted her hands at all sorts of odd angles in an attempt to draw a transmutation circle. It was of no use.

"Giving up?" Dante asked.

Lyra's limbs still made a few futile, half-hearted attempts. The girl herself was breathing heavily, too tired to put much of a struggle anymore. She barely managed to say something in a murmur.

"What was that?" Dante said, a smirk tugging on her lips.

"I said: 'Yes'!" the girl replied, almost shouting in frustration.

"All right." The icy hand had melted in a matter of seconds, leaving Lyra drenched in a puddle of water. "Now get up," the elderly woman commanded, drying her wet hands on her long skirt. She beckoned the girl to walk next to her as they returned back to the mansion.

"Well…" Dante started, knitting neatly her fingers together like any teacher addressing their student. "Can you tell me what mistakes you made?"

"I didn't react fast enough to avoid the ice."

"Come now, child; that isn't the problem here. There's always that chance that you won't be able to react fast enough. The question is: what are you supposed to do once that happens?"

"But there was no way I could fight back!"

"Really?" Dante said. "Your hands were free."

"I couldn't draw a transmutation circle on the ground."

"You could draw one on the ice. And then you could either melt it or shatter it – or you could transmute it into a weapon against me."

The girl widened her eyes, she realising just how badly she had blundered. "I didn't think of that," she said.

"Exactly," Dante said, opening the door. "That's one of your major vices: you give up too easily. Never stop thinking, and you'll live longer."

"Yes, Teacher," Lyra said, and she quickly rushed to the top floor to refresh herself. Dante walked to her own room, releasing her hair from their tight bun with a heavy sigh.

"The body is certainly trained, but the mind…" she muttered to no one in particular, shaking her head. "But if everything goes well, that will change soon enough."

The phone rang loudly, cutting her off her musings. Surprised, she walked up to the small table and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"It's me."

Dante recognised Sloth's voice at once. "Why the phone-call?" she asked indignantly. "I've already given you your orders."

"It couldn't wait. We discovered something further about our mysterious sergeant."

The elderly woman's ears pricked up at once. "Oh? Go on."

"I don't think you'll like it," the homunculus said.

"Out with it."

There was a small pause, during which Dante guessed that Sloth was probably trying to think from where it would be best to start.

"It would seem that Mr. Beregond isn't who he claims to be. A brigadier general has found a death certificate which proves that. Apparently, the sergeant is supposed to have been dead for the last thirteen years. Still, his face and the face in a photograph from that time matches almost perfectly."

"What?" Dante's hand clenched more tightly around the receiver. "Are you sure of this?"

"Beyond any doubt. And there's more than that. His homeland is in Resembool."

_Resembool? _

_Wait a minute…_

"What's the name on the death certificate?"

There was another pause as Sloth looked up at the name. "William Brice."

Dante almost gasped in shock. "You said Brice?" she asked urgently.

"Yes."

It was then that Dante realised why that face on the photograph she had was so familiar. She smiled as she stumbled upon a revelation beyond her wildest dreams.

_My, my… this is almost too precious._

"What did you do with the brigadier general?"

"He has already been taken care of."

"Good. Destroy the certificate and the photograph – they're of no more use to us."

"Yes, Dante."

"And, Sloth?"

"Yes?"

"Where are the Elric boys and the Sergeant now?"

"They've left Central and they are now travelling South."

Dante's smile broadened. Things seemed to be getting better and better."Contact Envy and Pride. They'll have to do a little spying for me once again."

"What are you hoping to find?" Sloth asked, genuinely curious now.

"_Him._"

There was silence for many long moments, until the homunculus decided to break it. "I understand. Will that be all?"

"For the time being. Now see to your orders – _all_ of them."

"Yes, Dante." And Sloth hung up.

* * *

Beregond turned on his side, still keeping his eyes closed. He was feeling dizzy, but fortunately not enough to empty the contents of his stomach. No. This time his discomfort was due to another reason. His confrontation with the Führer.

Did he act too paranoid when he told Havoc about the man's resemblance to Dûrinas? Perhaps he did. Even after all he had seen and discovered, after seeing shattered all the things he had taken for granted in the last forty years… Beregond's heart still didn't obey the cruel truths of reason. That the two worlds were entirely different, in spite of the common principals they shared. That the Gondorians and the Amestrians were different too, no matter their ancestry or the blood that flowed in their veins or the features on their faces.

But that voice, those words, that _secrecy_… Should he have just overlooked them?

He turned on his other side and tried not to think anymore. What was done was done and it couldn't be changed. He could simply hope that nothing bad would come out of it.

Just then, he heard another sound above the raucous of the train wheels. Recognising who it could be, he opened his eyes and looked curiously at Al.

"I was hoping you were sleeping," the suit of armour said shyly.

Beregond shook his head and propped himself on his elbow. "Where are the others?"

"I've left them eating some pie that Mrs Hughes made for us," the suit of armour answered. "Is it okay if I sit here with you?"

"Of course," Beregond said, motioning with his hand at the other seat. He smiled teasingly. "Let's hope your brother leaves some pie for Winry."

Al laughed, sharing the humour. "Well, it's a good thing Mrs Hughes taught Winry how to make more if needed," he said, sitting down. He paused for a moment, his flickers of eyes reflecting something that Beregond identified as longing. "Winry said she will make some for me when I get my body back."

"She's a good friend."

"Yeah… Yeah, she is."

Beregond didn't speak for some time, regarding the armour in a questioning manner. "Did you tell her?"

Al's eyes brightened in surprise. "Tell her what?"

Beregond raised an eyebrow, unsure as to what to make of that reaction. "About our _real_ reason for heading south."

"Oh." Al bowed his head slightly. "No. Not yet."

The man sighed. "I thought we all three had agreed on it. You'll have to tell her sooner or later."

"I know. It's just that…" the suit of armour paused to huff in mild frustration. "Brother doesn't want to scare her."

"Scare her?" Beregond didn't understand at first, but then he remembered something very important concerning the young girl. "That's right," he said softly. "Her parents died in Ishbal."

Al nodded.

"All the more reason she has to know if we're to meet the Ishbalans," Beregond insisted. "Whatever archives they have on alchemy might prove important; you said so yourself." He paused, pondering on matters for a moment. "Do you want me to tell her?"

"That's okay," Al said, shaking his head. "We'll tell her when we get to Rush Valley."

Beregond considered objecting at first. He really wanted to tell Al that delaying and stalling wouldn't help matters at all. Besides all that, Winry herself had to be the judge of what she could handle and what not. He finally decided against it though. If there was something that both boys knew quite well besides alchemy, it was to take responsibility for their actions.

So, all that he said in the end was: "All right, when we get to Rush Valley. But not a day later."

* * *

The sound of footfalls was the only sound that echoed throughout Dante's study. The old woman kept pacing up and down the room in agitation, one thought after another piling in her mind.

On the one hand there was William Brice, a man dead beyond any doubt. On the other hand, there was Sergeant Beregond, a man very much alive who was certainly not from Amestris if his language alone was taken under consideration_._ That meant there was a man gone from this world when his health failed him and a man who had appeared in this world _out of nowhere._

Two contradictory backgrounds of the same person would have been quite the puzzling matter indeed. But Dante had discovered long ago a secret behind the curtain of mystery which screened the workings of nature from the prying eyes of the unworthy. Because of that, she knew that the two backgrounds weren't contradictory at all. They were, in fact, two different ones entirely.

Apparently, somebody else had discovered the key to unlock that sort of secret and used it for his own ends. Dante knew only one who could manage that, and if he really was behind this.. then she would have to find him. His answers would bring her one step closer to absolute power.

First, however, she would have to verify her suspicions. After making sure Lyra was still upstairs and so she wouldn't be missed, Dante headed for the library. She pushed one of the bookcases aside and clapped once to reveal a secret opening. She stepped slowly inside and, moments later, she was in another room, a scantily furnished and dark one at that. The only things that could be seen under the dim light of a torch were a desk, a chair and a bed, where a huddled form was currently lying and regarding Dante with loathing in his glazed eyes.

"Haven't you grown tired of coming here, asking me the same thing when you know my answer will always be 'No'?" the old man said.

"I haven't come for the man's journal this time, Syndow. I've come for some other answers," Dante said. "And you had better give them to me."

* * *

The door swung open and Maes stepped into Elysia's room. He was followed closely behind by Gracia, who was holding her daughter tenderly in her arms. The girl herself was sleeping, peacefully oblivious to everything that was going on around her, including the conversation of her parents.

"You didn't tell him _anything_ of what happened these past few days?" Gracia asked, a thoughtful look settled on her features.

"I couldn't," Maes said simply. He took Elysia carefully into his arms so that he could put her in bed. "He should focus on other matters now."

"He's your friend, Maes," Gracia replied. "It's only natural that he's concerned about what's going on."

Maes sighed. "Gracia…" His hands clutched the edge of Elysia's blanket tightly. "Whoever was behind the operation of the lab must be someone within the army, and I suspect it's someone very important. Someone who's able to monitor the soldiers' actions and avoid being discovered." He didn't face his wife, his features shadowed as the light from the hallway didn't hit him directly. "Maybe even have their houses tapped."

Gracia flinched at this, a small gasping sound escaping his lips. "But… if that's true, Roy has to know about this."

"No," Maes said adamantly. "Not until I find something more tangible."

The woman wrung her hands nervously, understanding perfectly well what her husband meant. "Just… be careful," she whispered.

Maes didn't answer this time. He simply caressed Elysia's cheek affectionately, a small smile tugging on his lips; a smile that this time didn't reach his eyes to chase away the darkness reflected within them.

"Daddy will have to work late tonight, sweetheart," he said in a soft tone, leaning down to place a small kiss on the girl's forehead. "Goodnight."

He only cast a reassuring glance at Gracia's direction before he walked out the door.

* * *

He was in the dark again. She left a bit more than a quarter of an hour ago, after making sure she gave him his usual meagre rations in food and water. As she said, it was his reward for co-operating this time.

Syndow sighed. It was against his gentlemanly contact to betray another man's trust in him, but he was certain that that Dante person already knew a lot more than she let on. Even if he hadn't said anything, she would have taken his silence as more than enough answer to the questions she asked him, thus making his discretion pointless.

Nevertheless, he refused to translate the Gondorian's journal for her. He didn't know how she acquired it, but he was more than certain that it was through devious means. And whatever it was that she was hoping she'd find in there, he wasn't going to help her find it.

Still… this journal provided an account of a man whose life began 6,000 years ago in another world. That man's life was so different back then, resembling the tales Syndow had spent almost half a life-time to gather. And it was enriched with so much wondrous detail that it made the professor imagine how the world was back then, even feel like he _was_ there. More importantly, it was filled with the emotions of this man, this Gondorian. All his fears, all his beliefs and even his impressions of this world and life he was currently leading were put into words of such sheer beauty in their simplicity that it put powerful epics and elegant poems into shame.

It was a journal of a man who lived everything Syndow could only mentally touch through the languages and stories in which he had dedicated his soul. That made Syndow wish to know this man, to understand him and his world better. And perhaps through it all understand _this_ world as well.

Now he had that chance. That was why, under the dim light of that torch that was still on the wall, Syndow worked fervently to translate the journal without being discovered by his captor, trying to quench that thirst his scientific mind was craving.

TBC...


	13. Enemy Revealed

There were very few lights to be seen at Central Headquarters at that time of night. It was only natural. Everyone had left to have some rest before taking up their duties again the following day.

Maes, however, had no intentions of going back home. Not before finding the answers he wanted. That's what he had been trying to do for the last two hours, in fact. Moreover, in his attempt to find connections with any other unsolved crimes, he had opened any unsolved case-files which dated almost eight years back and remained forgotten on the shelf.

"First we have Liore, where the riot started because of the priest and the fake philosopher's stone," he murmured to himself as he looked at the photos that showed the catastrophe. "The military was involved and that made things worse." His eyes caught sight of another set of pictures. "Then Ed went to Xenotime where he found Mugwar, who did research on the Red Water – the prototype for a philosopher's stone."

Making a small humming sound in thought, Maes's hands reached for another file and looked at the data on it.

"Basque Grand, however, was responsible for all research in the philosopher's stone." The data said so only too clearly.

"And then there's Shou Tucker's presence in Lab 5. Grand was his sponsor, wasn't he?" Maes mused quietly.

That, of course, meant only one thing. All incidents were caused because of the research on the philosopher's stone. Whenever someone got too close to the truth, something happened and immediately afterwards all evidence was gotten rid off.

"But why?"

One theory was that only Basque Grand could be behind all this, but it didn't hold water. The late Brigadier General may have wanted the philosopher's stone for himself, but he wouldn't have been able to pull this kind of cover-up on his own. Not to mention that the research didn't stop even after Grand's death. It was continued; probably by the same people who approached Grand and made him part of their plans.

"Let's see," Maes murmured. "Grand started funding the research shortly after the Ishbal Massacre…"

In fact, right after Marcoh became a deserter.

"Wait a minute…"

The alchemists used the red stones to test their power in Ishbal. _Marcoh's_ stones.

The fake priest used a red stone too.

Mugwar's research involved _crystallizing_ the red water.

Maes frowned. So it wasn't only Marcoh who had come up with that theory, and the knowledge wasn't gone once the Crystal Alchemist ran away. Someone already _had_ that information and he was providing it to anyone interested. Who, though?

Mugwar was dead, buried underneath the ruins of the mansion where he was conducting his research, whereas the priest had left Liore without leaving a trace. That meant that Maes would have to contact Marcoh if he were to find any answers. Maes would have preferred not to risk exposing the doctor, but there wasn't much of a choice.

With that thought, Maes opened his wallet and took out from a small secret pocket a piece of paper with Marcoh's phone-number. He stepped outside and asked Scieszka to keep a lookout for any unwelcome passer-by, then returned to his office and dialled the number.

A moment later, Marcoh's familiar deep voice answered the phone. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late, Doctor," Maes said. "My name's Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes."

The voice on the other end of the line became more alert, somewhat agitated. "Yes… Mustang mentioned your name long ago. What do you want?" There was a brief pause before Marcoh asked worriedly: "Is there something wrong?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Maes said. "Sir, I need to know about the red stones you created."

"I can't tell you anything," the doctor said at once. "These stones mean nothing but trouble!"

"I'm aware of that," Maes said, keeping his voice calm. "As I also know that the Elric Brothers almost got killed because of something you told them."

"Oh… So they solved my puzzle," Marcoh breathed out.

"Yes. And they discovered Lab 5." Maes paused, trying to sense any kind of reaction, frustrated when he couldn't detect any. "Doctor… _you_ used to work in that lab, didn't you? Long before it was supposedly considered inoperative."

"Please…" Marcoh said, his voice strained, "I can't tell you."

Maes's grip on the receiver tightened. "Fine, I'll just make the questions. If the answers to any of them are 'Yes', keep silent. Is that okay with you?"

Marcoh didn't speak.

"I'll take that as yes," Maes said. He straightened his glasses and made the first question: "Were you _told_ about the red stones?"

There was no answer.

_Yes._

"By the same people that operated Lab 5?"

Silence again.

_Yes._

"Were they involved in the Ishbal Rebellion?"

"I don't know."

Maes frowned. "What about Liore?"

"I don't know."

_Damn…_ Maes would have to find that out through the files. "Understood. Thank you, Doctor."

"Good luck, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Thanks." Maes hung up, so that he could continue examining the files. He now understood that, whoever was behind the whole research and gave those alchemists the push they needed to make their breakthroughs, also had a lot to benefit from the Ishbal Rebellion. It was a fine opportunity to see just how powerful the red stones were, as well as how long it took those amplifiers to backfire on the alchemists that used them.

Maes couldn't help but feel disgusted when the thought that the battlefield was the testing room and the State Alchemists the lab-rats wedged forcefully in his mind. And the idea that his _best friend_ was among them saddened the lieutenant colonel the most.

_They were used as tools… all of them._

Or should he say like _puppets? _Maes realised that it was quite convenient that the outbreak in Ishbal began just when the first red stones were ready to be put to the test.

Maes's hands instantly reached for the file concerning the Ishbal War and started reading through it carefully. It didn't take him long to find what he had been looking for.

"_The skirmishes between Amestrians and Ishbalans became a grand-scale war when a private by the name of Juliette Douglas accidentally shot an Ishbalan child that was playing near the military camp_…"

Maes pursed his lips. So far it seemed like the war in Ishbal _was_ an accident. Nevertheless, Maes couldn't be appeased. A nasty feeling that something was very wrong with this sentence settled in the pit of his stomach and it wouldn't budge.

So engrossed he had become in his fervent thoughts that he almost fell from his chair when the phone next to him rang. Huffing mentally in frustration, he picked up the receiver. "Yeah, go ahead."

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes? This is Colonel Douglas. The Führer wishes to speak with you in his office."

Maes instantly tensed. Not because King Bradley himself wanted a personal meeting with him, but because he finally realised what was wrong with the case-file.

The name Douglas.

In a flash, everything fell into place. Though utterly horrified by the revelation, it was with a very calm voice that Maes answered:

"I'll be up in a short while."

He didn't register the slow motion of his hand as he hung up, and he didn't pay heed to what Scieszka meant to tell him when she walked in, another pile of files and books in her hands. He merely stood up and walked out, heading for the archives' room.

His last words to the girl were: "Put everything back in its place. And after that, go home. You're fired."

He was going to deal with this on his own.

* * *

"Thank you for coming at such short notice, Lieutenant Colonel," Douglas said. She was standing on the head of the stairs when Maes came to the top floor of Central Headquarters, her expression icy as always. "Follow me, if you please."

Maes nodded his acknowledgement with a salute and started walking beside her. She didn't seem to notice his scrutinising look on her person, or how his entire body was as tense as a bowstring – as though ready for a fight.

_It is now or never._

"So, Miss Douglas… do you know why the Führer wants to see me?"

"I believe it has to do with the incidents at Lab 5," she replied. "There has been information that Ishbalans were involved."

"I see…" Maes said. "I guess some people believe that the war isn't over, right?"

Douglas said nothing.

"Tell me, if you don't mind my asking: Have you ever been to the battlefield of Ishbal?"

"I'm afraid not, Lieutenant Colonel. I've been doing a desk job in my entire military career."

"Heh, fancy that – same as me," Maes said, yet there was hardly any mirth in his voice. "It's very interesting, considering that a certain Private Douglas seemed to have been the reason the whole mess in Ishbal started in the first place."

She simply walked on. "A common name, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Maybe, but here's where it's becoming _really_ interesting," Maes continued on. "On my way here, I looked at some files in the archives' room. It turns out that that particular Juliette Douglas apparently died two years _prior_ to the War of Ishbal, but someone forgot to cross the name out of the active soldiers' list. Now, wouldn't it be just plain easy for someone to take advantage of that slip-up and take that name as their own? It would give them access to everything, including--"

"Including several promotions and a key-position by the Führer's side," Douglas answered. Her face was calm and her eyes soulless as she looked back at Maes.

Maes regarded her with a clenched jaw. "Who are you? Exactly?"

She simply waved her hand to the direction of the Führer's door with apathy. "The Führer will see you now."

"Is he really here, I wonder?" Maes said, his eyes still on Douglas and prepared for anything. His hand reached for the doorknob. "I guess I'll find out."

At the sound of a door bursting open made him turn around at once, and what Maes saw almost made his heart stop beating. There was another woman now standing in front of him, her violet eyes matching those of a hunting tigress. Her elongated claws aimed at his chest, and her ruby-red lips curved into a smirk of triumph. But it wasn't _that_ that had Maes staring at her incredulously.

It was the symbol of the ouroboros on her chest.

"A pleasure to meet you… or should I say 'Goodbye', Lieutenant Colonel?" she said, her voice carrying a deceivingly seductive quality.

Maes smirked, trying to hide his rising panic. "That's a very sexy tattoo you have there, Miss."

She didn't bother with a reply this time. She only extended her elongated fingers for the kill.

She was fast, but Maes proved faster in his pure instinct to stay alive. He stepped aside so as not to be pierced through his chest. His right hand reached for the secret pocket on his belt and he threw one of his knives at the black-clothed woman's direction. The knife got imbedded right between her eyes, making her fall backwards and on the floor.

At the next moment, pain surged through him and the sensation of something warm trickled down his arm. He looked down, and he realised his attacker didn't miss her target completely either.

_Damn it…_

Three of her nails had grazed Maes's skin badly. Blood was flowing out of his wound quite freely.

He had to get out…

"Run, Sir!"

Maes turned around, just in time to see Second Lieutenant Maria Ross holding up her gun and opening fire against Douglas. Douglas evaded the bullets easily, yet Maes didn't have the luxury to think about that. He was just relieved that Ross was there, offering him help. He started running frantically, and he saw the young soldier from the corner of his eye following close behind.

Neither she nor the lieutenant colonel noticed Lust stirring back to life, pulling the knife from her forehead. And, of course, they never saw the haunting smile she directed at Douglas when she said: "It seems like we underestimated him, Sloth." They simply kept running. They didn't even stop when they got out of Headquarters, or even when they reached the alleys of Central; they couldn't take any chances.

* * *

"Sir, what happened back there?" Ross asked, still running beside Maes. "How did the intruder get in unnoticed and what was Colonel Douglas trying to do?"

Maes winced mentally. Of course the woman needed some answers. She was forced to shoot at the Führer's secretary just minutes ago!

"That, Lieutenant, was the enemy, who has moved in very close to the Führer, deep enough to affect large-scale decisions. First it was Ishbal. Now Liore is going to pay the price as well."

"The price?"

"The price for immortality," Maes replied, looking at Ross momentarily. "The enemy's goal isn't to create the Philosopher's Stone directly, but…"

His voice died in his throat, because it was at that moment that he realised something very important.

_Ross's face…_

So he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"Never mind. Come along."

"Yes, Sir," Ross said obediently, following Maes to a phone-booth nearby. Maes quickly took out of his pocket any small change he had and dropped them into the slot of the large phone. He didn't realise that a small picture of his wife and daughter slipped off his pocket and landed on the ground in plain view for anyone to see.

"Come on, come on… hurry up…" he muttered in frustration.

Finally, there was an answer. "East Area Headquarters, how may I help you?"

"I need you to put me through Roy... Colonel Mustang!" Maes said at once.

"I'm sorry, but Colonel Mustang is unavailable."

Maes's hands clenched into fists. "What do you mean unavailable? Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't give this information to--"

_Damn it, this is taking too much time!_

"This is Lieutenant Colonel Hughes from Central Headquarters! This is an emergency, that's why I'm calling from outside!"

"Please, give me your code."

Maes swore mentally, but he knew he had no choice. He searched for a small notebook, kept safely on the inside pocket of his uniform jacket. After looking through all the pages, he finally found what he had been looking for and started repeating the code on the phone.

"I've confirmed the code. I'm sorry to inform you that Colonel Mustang has left for Central."

_He did what?_

"DAMN IT!" He slammed the phone down, unable to control himself. "At a time like this! With this information, he could go straight to the top!"

"Lieutenant Colonel, we should go somewhere safe," Ross said, looking at her surroundings in a worried manner.

Maes released his grip on the receiver with a defeated sigh. "Yeah, you're right. It's not like I lost any evidence here." When the woman turned her back to him, he seized his chance. "But now there's something I'd like to bring up with you." He grabbed another knife from his secret pocket and held it close to the woman's throat. "The _real _Lieutenant Ross has a mole right beneath her left eye."

The woman, surprisingly, didn't even so much as flinch at this sudden turn of events.

"Oh, is that so? How careless of me," she said with a chuckle. She faced Maes before she placed a hand over her face. There was a small flash of light, and a mole appeared right where Maes said there should have been.

Maes felt his heart racing as he recognised that kind of trick. Edward had described it to him only too recently.

"That's an amazing talent," he noted, a grim smirk tugging on his lips.

If the woman ever meant to say anything to that, she never had the chance. With a swift motion of his hand, Maes slit open her throat and watched her fall on the ground.

"I hope you'll forgive me," he said, as death spasms coursed through her now blood-soaked body, "But I've got a wife and kid waiting for me back home." At that, he turned around, not bothering to look back.

Suddenly, he sensed another flash of light behind him. Deciding that he had to finish off his opponent after all, Maes let another knife slip out of his sleeve and got ready to use it.

He never did. He froze on his tracks, staring in disbelief at the form that was now standing before him, gun in hand.

"You're right, Hughes," the Gracia look-alike said with a smile. "Maybe _this_ is a more fitting end."

As the great clock-tower of Central ticked over to midnight, the sound of gunshot filled the air.

TBC...


	14. A Step Back

10.05 am

"Surprised, Lieutenant?" the Havoc look-alike asked, keeping a black eyebrow arched as he still regarded the real one.

Only then Havoc's ability to speak returned. "B-Boss…"

Roy placed a gloved hand on Havoc's mouth, effectively silencing him. And before Havoc had the time to react, Roy pushed him in an alley nearby, taking advantage of the darkness the shadows offered.

"No names, 2nd Lieutenant," he said warningly, holding a glovedfinger close to his lips to signify silence.

Complying to Roy's command, Havoc merely nodded his understanding. Still, a part of him still couldn't believe what was happening. He'd spoken to the Colonel through the phone just a couple of days ago, and now Roy Mustang was here, in Central, disguised as _him_.

_What's going on?_

It seemed like Roy registered the questioning look in the lieutenant's face, because he lowered his hand. He snapped his fingers, creating a small yet bright spark. As Havoc soon discovered, it was a signal for Hawkeye to approach.

Havoc's eyes widened when he saw the _woman's_ disguise. Her blond locks were down and framed her features in a way Havoc wasn't accustomed to seeing on her. Instead of the austere military uniform, she was now wearing a brown jacket which covered a white silk shirt, a matching skirt and thick glasses. In fact, she now looked like some sort of a school-teacher but for the gun clasped in both her hands.

"Are we alone?" Roy asked, his eyes locked on Hawkeye.

"For the present, Sir," she answered. "Even so, I suggest we move somewhere with more privacy."

"Any suggestions?"

"There's such a place not too far from here. We passed it on our way here, Sir."

"Then lead on." Roy clasped Havoc's arm and prodded him forward. "You have a lot of things to report, Lieutenant."

Havoc could only swallow hard at those words.

10.10 am

The abandoned warehouse was a dangerous place for any trespassers. The roof had already collapsed for the most part, filling the whole floor with debris. As for the walls, they'd become mouldy after several years of rain tumbling on them, and there were a lot of bricks that had slipped out of their place, making said walls ready to crumble at the first chance.

Nevertheless, that was where Mustang, Havoc and Hawkeye entered so that they would be able to talk without anyone eavesdropping on them. Roy took off the blond wig he had been wearing all this time and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it presentable. He made a small motion with his head in Hawkeye's direction, and she seemed to have understood what he asked of her. Placing her gun on the holster, which was discreetly underneath her skirt and tied around her thigh, she walked outside.

As soon as the two men were left alone, Roy grabbed a small wooden crate for himself and used it as a chair to sit down. His eyes locked on the 2nd Lieutenant.

"Sit."

Complying at once, Havoc found a crate for himself and sat down also.

"Sir, when did you arrive in Central?" he caught himself asking before he could help it.

"I'll be asking the questions if you don't mind, Lieutenant," Roy answered. "What has been happening so far? Are the Elric boys still in the hospital?"

Havoc shook his head. "They took the first train for Dublith just half an hour ago."

"Dublith?"

"They said they wanted to find their teacher there and make themselves stronger," Havoc explained.

"Odd course of action," Roy mused, but he didn't ponder on it for long. "And what about Beregond? Is he still under arrest?"

"No, Sir. The Führer acquitted him of all charges yesterday. He's gone with Ed and Al."

"Did he now?" Roy said, raising an eyebrow. He crossed his arms in thought. "That's odd. I thought they would have gone after him by now."

"Sir?"

Roy took out of the inside pocket of his overcoat a picture and handed it to Havoc. When Havoc looked at the picture, however, he could only frown in a bemused manner. It was just a picture of the Gondorian.

Except… his hair was short in this one.

"Sir… I don't understand."

"That's not Beregond, Lieutenant. It's his doppelganger, who died thirteen years ago," Roy finally said. He didn't seem to pay attention at the gasp of surprise that escaped Havoc's lips. "Connors discovered a copy of the picture when he started examining the death certificates of every town and city in the East Area. You know what that means, of course."

Havoc nodded weakly. "That was why Fawcette was after him," he breathed out. "If the Führer hadn't interfered…" His voice trailed off, not wishing to utter the implications.

"Yes. We would be in big trouble, all of us," Roy said.

Havoc let out a sigh. "Guess luck was on our side this time."

"And yet, something doesn't add up."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

Roy didn't answer for the present. "When was Beregond released?" he asked.

Havoc rubbed the back of his head as he tried to remember. "Around 3.30… Maybe 4 o' clock."

"Whereas Breda told me that Connors left from East City at 5 o'clock in the morning."

Havoc blinked, suddenly realising what the Colonel was saying. "It takes 12 hours to arrive here from East City."

Roy nodded. "That means Connors had more than enough time to inform the Führer about his discovery. After that, Beregond would logically have been taken again and locked behind bars until the matter was investigated further but… nothing of the sort happened."

"Maybe Connors didn't see the Führer yet?"

"That seems the best logical explanation for the present. If it's true though, it's really strange," Roy said, pursing his lips. He locked his eyes on Havoc. "I want you to go at Headquarters and try to find out as much as possible about that. Do you know of the _Green Dragon_?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We'll meet there at 5 o'clock so you can give me the latest news. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir," Havoc said. Both men stood up, and the Colonel put on the blond wig once again. "Should I inform Lieutenant Colonel Hughes about your arrival, Sir?" Havoc asked then.

"No," Roy answered at once. "For the time being, you will be only the one in the know, Lieutenant, so you'd better not let anything slip."

"Understood, Sir." The two men got out of the warehouse and they prepared to part ways when Havoc remembered himself.

"Sir? There's something else."

Roy faced Havoc, intrigued.

"Before Beregond left, he told me something weird."

"Such as?

"'Bradley is Dûrinas.'"

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Sounds to me like the sergeant has found another familiar face from his world."

"I guess so, Sir," Havoc said. "But… he seemed quite worried."

There was a flicker of surprise reflected in the black eyes for a moment, but it was gone in a flash as Roy nodded slightly and said. "Noted. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Moments later, Roy was gone out of sight.

11.45 am

The cafeteria wasn't busy. In fact, the only customers at that time of day were a couple of elderly men who played chess and a casually dressed young blond in his late twenties, who was reading the newspaper.

When said young blond man heard the sharp click of heels against the pavement though, he lifted his gaze and looked at the woman who stood before him.

"Am I late?" Riza asked in an uncharacteristic cute smile, pretending that she was Roy's date.

"No, I've only just arrived too," Roy answered, playing along. He placed the newspaper down as Riza took a seat opposite him, and he ordered some juice for her. As soon as the juice was placed on the table and the waiter left again, Roy decided that it was time to get his report.

"So how was your day?" he asked casually.

Riza made a small tired sigh. "Frustrating, I'm afraid. The customer I had made such painstaking efforts to arrange a meeting with never showed up."

_Did he now?_ Roy thought. "Try not to think about it," he said in a soothing manner, taking one of her hands in both his and rubbing them gently. "Maybe there will be a next time."

"There won't," Riza answered, shaking her head. "The dead will rise from their grave first."

Roy frowned inwardly. _So the leader of the mercenaries is dead_. The colonel didn't like this turn of events at all. He had hoped that Riza, disguised as a solicitor, would be able to talk to the prisoner and maybe get some information on who he worked for. Now, however, he would have to find his answers somewhere else.

"And you?" Riza asked then sweetly, taking a few sips of her drink. "What did you do?"

"Counted the minutes till you came," Roy answered smoothly, placing himself closer to the woman. At that point, anyone who happened to look at them would think that the man was making quite the amorous advances, and the woman was enjoying them. Little could they know that Roy didn't lean forward to place a loving kiss on the woman's cheek.

"I just read Connors' obituary in the newspaper. Dead by heart failure from the looks of it," he whispered close to Riza's ear.

As she still kept her act, the lieutenant's expression at those words was completely contrary to the concerned words she whispered back: "Do you believe it?"

"No." Roy pulled back, and pushed back a strand of blond hair away from Riza's face. "Tell your brothers I said hi. I'm thinking of paying a visit to an old friend."

Riza nodded a bit, another cute smile gracing her features. "Catching up and remembering the good old times, I suppose?"

"Yeah," Roy said. "And you? Will you go to your next client?"

Riza hummed her affirmative.

"Good." He placed some money on the table and stood up. "The juice is on me. I'll see you later at the party." He was about to walk away, quite sure that Riza understood what he meant, when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Oh, and… sweetie?"

Riza raised an eyebrow in curiosity – for real this time.

He grinned broadly. "You should keep your hair down more often. It suits you." And with that, he was gone.

The woman sighed and shook her head at that, her thought reflected quite clearly in her features.

_Men… _

12.30 pm

The first thing that Roy did as soon as he arrived at the military hospital was to change his disguise at once. So, he put the wig inside his shirt for safe-keeping and got dressed in a characteristic doctor's robe that he happened to find forgotten on a coat rack. Minutes later, he walked up at the registry with the air of someone who was quite comfortable with the place.

"Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Knox is?"

"He must be still in his office," the nurse said, not really looking up from the paperwork she was currently working on. "Take the first flight of stairs downstairs."

"Thank you," Roy said politely and walked to the direction the nurse told him.

The office he had been looking for was one of the darkest places in the hospital, and the closer he got to it, the nasty smell of disinfectant and a very familiar something else became stronger.

Then again, that was to be expected in a morgue.

Trying not to think about it too much, Roy walked up to the office and knocked. The sound that echoed throughout the corridor had barely died down when the door opened and a lean, middle-aged man came out.

"Hello, Knox. Long time, no see."

Knox straightened his glasses, the grey eyes regarding the newcomer from head to toe through drooping eyelids. He smirked knowingly.

"Did you decide to change your profession, Mustang?"

"Something like that. Can I come in?"

Knox shrugged half-heartedly. "I suppose." He motioned his hand in an inviting manner and closed the door as soon as Roy stepped in. "So... to what do I owe this pleasure? The last time I saw you was in that train on our way back from Ishbal."

"I've heard about Connors."

"Ah… I see," Knox said quietly.

Roy was far from finished, though. "Was it _really_ a heart failure?"

Knox's gaze locked on Roy, eyeing him hard. "What's it to you? You didn't exactly like him."

"Come now, Knox," Roy said. "The man wasn't even forty."

"People can die at all ages, Mustang; we both know that."

"Maybe," Roy retorted, "But I also know when someone avoids answering a simple enough question."

Knox didn't reply at once this time. He sat down in his chair with a huff, running his hand through his hair. "Mustang… I'm trying to put everything behind me. I don't want to be dragged into any games again."

"And yet I've got a nasty feeling that you're already dragged into one," Roy insisted. He placed both his hands on Knox's desk, locking his gaze on the coroner. "Something is happening, and I think it's affecting the military as well. I want to stop it if I can, but I won't be able to unless you tell me what I need to know."

Knox chuckled grimly. "You're the second one that says that to me. Except _she_ asked me to keep my mouth shut."

Roy tensed. "Who?"

The coroner shook his head. "The Führer's secretary." Deciding that he needed something to relax his nerves, Knox took out of his drawer a cigarette and lit it. "She came in and told me that there had been an attempt on Bradley's life. However, that kind of news wouldn't be received well from the soldiers, so she ordered me to change the report."

"How did she reach that conclusion?" Roy asked then, eyes slightly widening.

Knox sighed, letting out a puff of smoke. "I've already told you more than I ought to. We fought in the same war and got hurt in more ways than the eye can see, but that doesn't make us war buddies. You just burnt the bodies and I dissected them."

Roy clenched his jaw. "That still makes us war accomplices."

Knox didn't speak for some time. And when he _did_ speak, his tone was grim and without any clear emotion detected. "Yes… Yes, it does…"

He took off his glasses for a while and rubbed his eyes in a tired manner. When he stood up, Roy thought that Knox was about to send him away, but it wasn't so. He walked up to the large filing cabinet situated by the wall and took out two case files from two separate drawers, and then tossed them in a careless manner on his desk.

"I'm gonna take a walk," he said serenely. "Make sure no one comes and looks at those important documents while I'm gone." Before Roy could say anything, the coroner walked out, still smoking wearily.

Roy understood. Grateful for the opportunity Knox gave him, he immediately picked up the first case file and started reading.

"Wilson…" The name didn't sound familiar at first but, when Roy read further, he understood that it was the mercenary Riza told him about. He was only half-surprised when he read the man's cause of death – a puncture wound on his forehead that seemed as though done by a bullet.

"Suicide then," Roy concluded. It made sense, if the mercenary didn't want to reveal any information that betrayed his employer.

What really surprised Roy, however, was the _true _nature of the puncture wound. Knox wrote, quite clearly, that it was an unidentified knife-like object. Furthermore, the angle at which the knife-like object was embedded in the skull clearly told that Wilson was murdered.

That made Roy frown. If that were true, someone wanted to make sure Wilson _didn't_ talk. But who could have passed such tight security without arousing suspicion? Every civilian that came in contact with a prisoner was carefully checked.

Unless... it wasn't a civilian who did this.

Roy wiped the sweat that started forming on his brow and quickly checked Connors' file. His eyes instantly widened, and Roy could actually feel the blood draining from his cheeks.

Connors was poisoned. There were traces of arsenic found in the tea in Führer's office, and when Bradley offered some to the brigadier general… the man was beyond help.

"So that explains the attempted murder," Roy mused. Now he saw through Knox's reasons to have Roy see both files; there was a high chance that those two cases were connected.

Roy was quite dismayed when he realised what this meant. Someone with either very powerful connections or a very easy access to the military was trying to drag Amestris into chaos. But who? And, more importantly, why?

_Is that what you didn't want me to know, Hughes?_

Roy decided that it was a probability. Knowing Hughes, the colonel now understood that his friend wouldn't want Roy dragged into this. This was becoming something very big, and it could distract Roy from his goal to becoming Führer – if not place him in danger.

"Idiot…" the colonel muttered, shaking his head.

It was then that the door opened and two nurses came in, both carrying a stretcher. They both stopped in their tracks when they saw Roy in the office.

"Where's Dr. Knox?" one of them asked in a bemused manner.

Thankfully, Roy managed to keep his cool. "He's gone to grab some coffee for himself. What can I do for you?"

"Well, you could take this poor bastard off our hands," the other said, guiding his companion to place the stretcher beside the coronary table. "I'll take his head and my buddy will grab the legs. Do you mind if you hold the middle?"

"No," Roy said, trying to keep the appalled tone off his voice. Doing his best to act as familiar with handling corpses as possible, he held the corpse and helped the nurses to move it. None of the three were gentle in their movements though, and an arm slipped from underneath the sheet.

A military-clad arm.

"What happened to him?" Roy asked before he could help it.

"That's for you and Dr. Knox to find out. We just carried him from the underground sewage where he was dumped," the first nurse answered with a shrug. "Anyway, good luck." And both nurses exited almost as quickly as they had entered, not bothering to look back.

It gave Roy the opportunity to rush to the sink and wash his hands.

"It's not so easy, is it? When you burn them, you don't have to dirty yourself."

Roy sighed and faced Knox, who had in the meantime walked in. "I suppose not," he replied, his voice unusually weak. "But that doesn't make it better." He immediately straightened and composed himself. "By the way, thank you."

Knox raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course," Roy chuckled wryly and started walking out. "Well, I had better let you be. You're busy."

"Wait a moment, Mustang."

Roy turned in surprise. "What?"

"Look at him," Knox said, lifting the sheet that had been covering the corpse all this time.

Roy didn't really _want_ to look, frankly. However, he decided to grit his teeth and indulge the coroner. At the next moment, he was gaping incredulously at the familiar face.

"Didn't he use to work for Connors?" Knox said, confused.

"Yeah…" Roy breathed out.

"That's an odd coincidence," Knox paused, contemplating matters further. "Unless…"

"… it's no coincidence at all," Roy completed. "Don't tell anyone about this. If anyone asks you, just say you haven't been able to place an ID on him yet."

"You know I can't keep silent about this forever," Knox argued. "He's a lieutenant colonel!"

"I know! But at least try!" Roy insisted. "There are too many questions now that need answering!"

Knox sighed. "Fine. But if you are to find those answers you say, you'd better make it quick."

"I'll contact you again soon," Roy promised, then hurried out.

TBC…


	15. A Step Closer To The Truth

17.00 pm

Havoc made a small clicking sound with his tongue and sat down, facing the colonel. "I expected that we would just meet at the entrance of the _Green Dragon_, not waltz in it," he hissed through his teeth.

"Relax, Havoc. You're in civilian clothes, right?" Mustang's deep voice was calm, almost nonchalant about the whole situation.

"That doesn't mean anything. These guys," and with that Havoc pointed at the thugs that were sitting on the other tables, practically surrounding them, "can smell military men a mile away."

"As long as you act like one," Roy said. "So just blend in, okay?"

Havoc huffed. He tried to do what the colonel advised him to, but it just didn't seem possible. The _Green Dragon_ was a place notorious for its fill of lowly underworld personas in Central and, naturally, everyone within those four walls despised every kind of authoritative figure of the State. If he and Mustang were discovered, then they would be lynched.

"What are we doing here anyway?" Havoc asked, lighting a cigarette in the hopes of hiding the nervousness in his voice.

"Gathering information and avoiding being overheard."

"What do you mean?"

Roy didn't answer him this time though. With a brief, discreet wave of the hand that told Havoc to stay silent for a while, Roy called one of the waiters.

"Yes?" the man said.

"I'm looking for some able-bodied men for a job I have."

"Oh? Had something particular in mind?" the waiter asked, not in the least surprised at that strange request.

"It requires an alchemist too," Roy said, making a face as though he was thinking. "They said I should talk to a man called Wilson about that."

The waiter shook his head at this. "Sorry, you're out of luck. I heard Wilson's working for someone else."

Roy acted surprised. "I see. Do you know who?"

The waiter shrugged. "Some dame; a real doll at that. That's all I know about her though. She just came once, talked to Wilson and that's it."

Roy nodded in an absentminded manner. "Gotcha. Thanks."

"No problem," the waiter said, and he resumed with his work.

Havoc blinked, not really understanding what just happened. "Who's Wilson?"

Roy smirked. "You should know. You and Beregond fought him when he kidnapped that Ishbalan kid."

The lieutenant's eyes widened slightly at this. "You tried to find out who employed him?"

"Yes."

"So what now?" Havoc asked.

"Now we're going to other matters," Roy said seriously. "When you got back to Headquarters, did you hear about Connors?"

"Yeah, though it would be hard not to. The whole place was buzzing about it when I arrived," Havoc answered. "That certainly explains why he didn't get to spread the word about Beregond."

"Yes. Pretty convenient."

Something in the tone that Roy used made Havoc look at his superior quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"Connors was poisoned."

Havoc stared Roy incredulously. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. He died of arsenic poisoning," Roy said. "And that's not all. Fawcette is dead as well."

At those words, Havoc immediately shook his head. "I don't know where you got your information, but I'm afraid this time you have it wrong. Fawcette got transferred to the North. I heard of his departure a couple of hours ago."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Quite an amazing feat, considering the Fawcette I _saw_ has been dead for at least twelve hours."

Havoc felt that his jaw would drop on the floor. "H-how did you…?"

Roy gave the lieutenant such a look that Havoc stopped midway.

"Never mind. I'll take your word for it." He huffed out a puff of smoke in a dismayed manner. "Things are really starting to get out of hand, if you ask me. First it was the Lab 5 incident, now somebody is making sure Beregond isn't discovered. I'm not complaining in the last case, but who would do that?"

"That's simple enough to answer: somebody who is probably aware of Beregond's nature."

Havoc frowned. "Maybe. But how could anyone know?"

"Most likely from Syndow," Roy said. "Connors sent him here by someone's command a few days ago."

"What? By whose orders?"

"If I knew, I would have told you already. But it's probably the same somebody who thinks Beregond is more useful if he remains untouchable by any curious snoopers."

"Do you think it has to do with that new thing Beregond can do with his alchemy?" Havoc asked before he could help it.

This time it was Roy who stared at Havoc in surprise. "What new thing?"

Havoc bit his lower lip briefly, clearly hesitating. "You know more about that stuff, so I'm not sure how big a deal it is. But Beregond doesn't have to clap anymore to make something, the way the Chief does. He just waves his hand and… poof! Statues sprout off the ground in a jiffy."

An enigmatic smile tugged on Roy's lips. "Really?" He crossed his arms. "Yes… that could be it. In fact… As long as there are State Alchemists, the military can always make sure that the best of the bunch work on the research for the philosopher's stone. First it was Marcoh; then Shou Tucker… who knows who's going to be next? Personally, I'd definitely have Fullmetal and Beregond on my list of candidates."

Havoc tensed. "What you are saying is that the two incidents are connected."

"Exactly," Roy said. "And there's one link that connects them."

Havoc blinked. "What?"

"Douglas."

Havoc coughed as he suddenly choked on his cigarette smoke. "The Führer's secretary?"

"That would be her," Roy said in the most natural tone there was. "It all makes sense. The waiter said that it was a woman that employed Wilson. It could only be a woman with a lot of power and connections so that the mercenaries would do their job without being noticed by the State; a woman who would be able to get her hands on the alchemists' files and pick those that could be placed on the research for the philosopher's stone; a woman whose orders Connors would be more than willing to obey and so have Syndow sent to Central. And, speaking of Connors, the late brigadier general died after drinking some tea which was supposedly meant for Bradley; but the only one who serves tea to the Führer is her. She had every opportunity to slip that poison in Connors' cup, and it makes perfect sense that she asked the coroner not to let that kind of incriminating information go public."

"But if that's the case, don't you think the Führer would have understood something was up? It's his secretary we're talking about!" Havoc exclaimed.

"I know."

It was then that realisation caught up with Havoc.

"The… Führer…?" he breathed out. "Are you serious?"

Roy's expression showed that he was _dead_ serious.

"True, there isn't all that much tangible evidence like in Douglas' case. Nevertheless, while Bradley can be ruled out as an accomplice to all this just as easily, there are also some facts which actually place him in a very key position in this conspiracy theory. He was the one who created the position of a State Alchemist by law, making it easy for the military to keep data on all alchemists. He was the one who gave the command to deploy State Alchemists in the battlefield of Ishbal, thus getting information on each one's… potential. It was through Basque Grand, a man the Führer placed personally in charge of the research concerning the philosopher's stone, that the first stones Marcoh created were used. He personally picked Douglas as his secretary, when no one else in Headquarters even heard of her. And, more importantly, he has the money that Douglas certainly needed to carry out some of her missions."

"And he was the one that ordered us to silence about everything that's been happening," Havoc added, rubbing his temples as he felt a headache settling in. "Beregond's words finally make sense now."

"Indeed," Roy said. "If I remember correctly, Dûrinas was an important man in Beregond's world. He then turned out to be the worst traitor, trying to create a philosopher's stone at the expense of others."

Havoc nodded weakly, recalling the Gondorian's story only too clearly. "And that means that Bradley is very likely trying to get his hands on the philosopher's stone at the expense of State Alchemists."

"Yes."

"But what about those mercenaries? What could he possibly gain if he caused that kind of crisis in Central?"

"Lives."

Havoc gasped. "What?"

"The sergeant and I concluded long ago that the basic materials for a philosopher's stone are human lives," Roy explained. "After Lab 5 was destroyed, Bradley had to get them through other means."

Havoc wasn't one to feel squeamish easily, but he couldn't help but feel sick now. "So what happens now?" he managed to ask.

Surprisingly enough, Roy shook his head. "Nothing."

Havoc blinked, taken aback. "Nothing?" he echoed in disbelief.

"As I said, these are mere theories. They are logical, they are probable, but theories nonetheless. The only thing we can do without arousing any suspicion is to dutifully obey our orders and be on our guard until we find something that proves us right."

"What about Lieutenant Hughes and Major Armstrong? With all due respect, Boss, but at least these two should be informed that they're probably taking orders from the enemy."

"Remember, we should have something definite in our hands first," Roy repeated. "However, you're right. If there's anyone we can trust from Central Headquarters when the time comes, it's Hughes and Armstrong."

"But then who are we gonna tell?"

"Hawkeye and the others. That's all."

It was then that something else registered within Havoc's mind. "Speaking of which… Where's Hawkeye?" he asked curiously, finally noting the woman's absence.

"She's gone to gather any information concerning Professor Syndow's whereabouts. I had Hughes on it, but he got tangled elsewhere by the look of things." Roy looked at his watch and immediately stood up. "There's a telephone call I have to make right about now, so I must go."

"Understood," Havoc replied with a nod, rising from his chair also. "What would you have me do in the meantime?"

"Be at Central Station at 20.00," the colonel answered. "That's when Falman, Fuery and Breda will be arriving. Until then, if anybody asks, you don't know anything."

"Okay, Boss."

18.50 pm

The first phone-call Roy did was to Central Headquarters, where he was very sad to inform the Führer that he and his men had missed the train and they had to take the next one, which would reach Central quite late at night. Roy apologised for the inconvenience he might have caused with such a misfortune and asked the Führer if he could be so kind to put off their meeting till first thing in the morning. Bradley agreed with many a laugh – that man seemed to find _everything_ funny - and even told Roy that he would make arrangements so that he could be expected and his men would be placed at the proper dorms for the night.

"Thank you, Sir. You're only too kind," Roy said cordially, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. As soon as he hung up, he decided that he might as well make one more phone-call while at it.

"This is Knox."

"And I'm a man of my word," Roy replied.

"So I see," Knox said. "Did you find your answers then?"

"I think so," Roy answered truthfully. "Did anyone ask you about Fawcette?"

"No, which that in itself is quite odd."

"Oh?" Roy asked, raising his eyebrow. "What else is odd?"

"There are tight rope marks around the man's legs that clearly show that he got strapped; and that's not all. Both ankles were dislocated as though someone pulled them downwards."

Roy pursed his lips as a suspicion formed in his mind.

"Someone… or something. I didn't get to tell you before, but the nurses that brought Fawcette in said that they found him in the sewage."

"That explains it," Knox said, his tone contemplative. "The murderer put a weight around Fawcette's legs to make sure the body remained submerged."

"But, apparently, the rope slipped of its place and now we got to know about Fawcette. That confirms what I found out."

"Which is?"

"That whoever killed Fawcette made sure that the late lieutenant colonel wouldn't be missed. In fact, according to info from inside Headquarters, everyone thinks he's been transferred."

"This isn't good," the doctor said grimly. "Three deaths in such quick succession can only mean that either the murderer is a maniac, or he wants to desperately hide something."

"I'm afraid so," Roy said with a sigh. "But we might have an advantage just yet. Did you tell anyone about the body?"

"No."

_At last, some hope, _Roy thought relieved. "That means the murderer doesn't know about his slip-up yet. Can you make sure that it stays that way?"

"Hmm… I've already stripped Fawcette off his uniform, so he's just one tag away from being labelled 'unknown'."

"Good. Thanks." And with that, Roy was about to hang up; but Knox's voice stopped him midway.

"Mustang?"

"Yes?"

"I really hope you know what you're doing – for both our sakes."

"That's why I'm planning on staying ahead of them," Roy said and finally placed the receiver down.

20.00 pm

When the train from East City whistled its arrival, every passenger that was on board came out and rushed to greet the people that had been expecting them. And soon, the place was filled with smiles and exchange of idle talk concerning the trip and how tiring it was or any other kind of news.

On the other hand, there were three men dressed in civilian that weren't in the mood for _any_ sort of happy talk_._

"Oh, man… My back's killing me," said Falman, stretching himself after so many hours crammed in the train seat.

"I'm so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open," Breda said, rubbing his eyes.

"Hayate, not so hard!" Fuery moaned, trying to control an exuberant Hayate who kept tugging on his leash.

But Hayate didn't want to calm down. He had been forced to remain inside that moving room for hours on end, and he had to take care of certain pent-up feelings _now_. In fact, the matter had become so urgent that Fuery was soon dragged outside the station and to the nearest lamp-post.

"Fuery! Quit fooling around!" Breda cried out.

"Coming," replied Fuery, but that was easier said than done. Hayate didn't seem willing to abandon the lamp-post just yet.

That is, until he picked up _another_ scent; an all too familiar one. Breaking free from Fuery's grip, he immediately hurried past the crowd that was surrounding him, and as soon as he caught sight of _her_, he screeched to an abrupt halt and barked happily.

Riza was still in her civilian's clothing, even though she had got rid of the glasses and her hair was tied back once again. The moment she saw the dog, she smiled broadly and knelt down to pet him. "Did you have a good trip, Hayate?" she asked him affectionately. "You didn't cause any trouble, I hope?"

"No trouble whatsoever, Lieutenant," Fuery said at once, approaching the woman. In a matter of seconds, Breda and Falman appeared as well.

"Good to see you again, Lieutenant," the warrant officer said.

"Are you here on your own?" the second lieutenant asked.

"I'm right here," another voice sounded close to them and soon Roy was next to them, nodding his own greeting to the newcomers. Some of his grimness must have been visible in his countenance, because everyone looked at him quizzically.

"I take it your visit to your old friend didn't go as planned?" Riza questioned, eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

"You could say that," Roy answered with a slight nod. He looked around, raising an eyebrow. "Where's Havoc?"

"Present!" Truly enough, Jean showed up from amid the crowd. "Sorry for the delay; too much traffic."

"Better late than never," Roy said. "Are we expected?"

"Not yet, from what I understood, Sir," Havoc answered, smirking. "_Somebody_ informed them that you were delayed."

"I wonder who," the Colonel replied dryly. He turned to everyone. "We should go, gentlemen. I know of a place where we can talk without being listened in on."

20.35 pm

Roy stopped his car and stepped out to check his surroundings. Though he could detect a couple of new houses here and there, the neighbourhood looked peaceful and pretty much isolated from the rest of Central, just as he had left it more than three years ago. His gaze locked on the house in front of which he had parked, scrutinising the small iron-gate that separated it from the rest of the buildings.

_Still intact,_ he concluded. There was no sign that anyone might have broken in, so it was safe to use the place for his own ends. He signalled to Riza and Fuery to step out also and they complied instantly, Hayate following close to their heels.

"Have you seen where the others parked?" Roy asked Riza as soon as she came up to him.

"Around the corner, just as it was agreed on, Sir," the woman answered.

"Good."

"Sir, how did you know there was such a place?" asked Fuery, his eyes widened in wonder.

"I used to live in that house back at my old lieutenant colonel days," Roy answered with a small smirk. "I rented it to an elderly couple in exchange to keep it clean for me while I was stationed in East City. Though it's unfortunate that the husband died a couple of months ago and the woman moved in to her sister's, this will work to our advantage."

It was then that Havoc, Falman and Breda came up to the others, looking at the house also.

"Is that it?" Breda asked.

"Yeah," Roy said. He took out of his pocket two keys and used one to open the iron-gate. "After you, gentlemen."

In a few minutes, all the soldiers had gathered in the living room, listening to everything that Roy, Riza and Havoc had been up to so far. Havoc told of Lab 5 and the mercenaries, as well as the Führer's interest in them. Roy, on the other hand, told of Connors and Fawcette's deaths, as well as how they were connected to the events Havoc described. The three lower-ranking officers blanched at hearing that Bradley's interest in the case was probably not as benign as it appeared at first.

Roy couldn't blame them for that kind of reaction. After all, if it turned out that it was just them against the leader of this country and who knows how many officers supporting him… the outcome could prove quite ugly.

"Gentlemen… when I placed you in my unit, I chose you because you were prepared to share a certain goal with me. I realise that you were hoping that we wouldn't have to reach to that goal so... violently. So I must ask you all a certain question: are you still with me?"

Everyone looked at each other for the briefest of moments; that was all the amount of time they needed in order for the same thought to cross their minds. They turned to Roy.

"Always, Sir!"

Roy couldn't help but smile at that answer, because he realised that he had one important advantage against the Führer, if it came down to ever facing him. The loyalty of his men wasn't based on deception and they would remain loyal to him no matter what.

"Thank you," he said softly, yet he was certain his eyes reflected his gratitude. That earned from his men a small smile of their own.

But Roy knew that he had to carry on with their debriefing; so he cleared his throat and turned to Riza. "Did you find anything about Syndow?"

The woman nodded. "I managed to locate the soldiers that were escorting him while he was in Central. I say were, because the professor is no longer here. It seems that he travelled south to look at some ancient writings that were discovered during some excavations."

Roy snorted. "And he got so excited about it that he forgot to inform his family."

Falman frowned. "But if someone has really taken an interest in Beregond's nature and the professor was sent South…"

"…There are more people involved," Roy completed. He let out a huff and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is getting better and better," he stated sarcastically.

"With all due respect, Sir, but I believe this is the least of our problems," Breda said at that moment.

"What do you mean?"

"If the Führer is really involved as we speculate, then his command of silence about _any_ of the events takes a whole different meaning. It is a warning."

"A warning?" echoed Fuery before he could help it.

Roy crossed his arms. "Right… 'Stay out of the way and you'll live.' He wanted to make sure no one else dug into the matter any further."

It was then that Havoc's eyes suddenly widened. "Wait…" he breathed out.

Everyone looked at him, certainly surprised at the state of shock that he seemed to be in now.

"What is it?" Roy asked.

Havoc swallowed hard. "While we were discussing things at the hospital, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes said that he would do some research on the ouroboros tattoo Ed and Al saw."

Roy gasped before he could help it. "Did he say where he would search?" he asked quickly.

"I think it was at the tribunal," Havoc answered.

"Damn it! That idiot!" Roy cried out. He frantically opened his watch to check the time inside. "Half past ten. He might be there doing his research," he muttered under his breath and instantly stood up. "We must hurry; maybe it's not too late yet."

"Yes, Sir!" the others said at once and followed Roy out of the house.

TBC…


	16. A Race

The soldier that was standing guard at the gates of Central Headquarters stretched in a tired manner and then resumed with his duties. The night was quiet, albeit cold, and he could clearly see everything because of the unusually bright moonlight.

"Hey."

The guard almost jumped at the sound of a human voice so close to him. It turned out that there was no need for alarm, however, because he recognised the man that was now approaching him.

"At ease, Hudson," Havoc said with a chuckle, holding his palms up in a gesture of surrender.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Havoc," Hudson replied, saluting cordially. "I didn't expect to see you here at this time of night."

"You didn't?" Havoc asked, blinking in surprise. "Didn't Lieutenant Colonel Hughes tell you then?"

Hudson looked at Havoc with mild surprise. "Tell me what, Sir?"

Havoc huffed in a dismayed manner, muttering under his breath. "He forgot, the idiot."

"Sir?" Hudson said, bemused.

"I was supposed to come and pick him up right about this hour so we could go have a drink at the bar nearby," Havoc explained. "But if he didn't tell you that I'm expected, then he forgot and went to his home to sleep!" Havoc huffed again in frustration.

"Well… he's _still_ inside," Hudson ventured after contemplating matters for a few moments. "Maybe he'll come down shortly."

"Yeah, maybe," the lieutenant said. He got a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, as though trying to forget his problems. "Want one?"

"No, thank you, Sir."

Havoc just half-shrugged at that, then took a couple of drags and exhaled them deeply. A few moments later, he decided to speak again.

"You know, this is taking forever. Do you mind if I use the phone inside your post?"

"Sure, no problem," Hudson answered with a nod.

"Thanks." Havoc stepped inside and located the phone up on the wall. He dialled the number that Roy gave him but, moments later, he realised that something wasn't right. Hughes was taking too long to answer.

_Keep your cool_, Havoc reminded himself. _No one's to suspect something's off._

Finally, there was a hesitant, almost apologetic answer. "Hello?"

It was a woman; Hughes' secretary, from the sound of things. He berated himself for forgetting such an important detail like that.

"Scieszka?" he asked, even though he wasn't sure if he had said the correct name.

"Yes, who is it?"

"It's 1st Lieutenant Jean Havoc; a friend of Hughes."

"Yes, of course… He mentioned your name… You're also Sarah's friend, right?"

"Well… yeah." Havoc quickly squashed the giddy feeling at the thought that the woman who had captured his heart was talking about him to her friends. Staying in focus was far more important now. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to the Lieutenant Colonel. Could you…?"

Havoc's voice trailed off, because his ears suddenly picked up a most unexpected sound from the other end of the line.

"Scieszka? Are you crying?"

"I'm sorry!" the girl said, sniffling. "It's just that… I'm not the Lieutenant Colonel's secretary anymore…"

"What are you talking about?" Havoc asked, taken aback. A moment later, he felt a creeping suspicion settling on the back of his mind. "You… got fired?"

The sound of more sobs was enough answer.

_Great… What am I supposed to say to that?_ Havoc thought.

"Um… how did that happen?" True, it was kind of an insensitive way to ask _that_, but he couldn't afford any time for courtesy.

"I don't know!" Scieszka said. "He just got a call from the Führer's secretary and next thing I knew, he told me I was fired!"

All right, Havoc certainly didn't know Hughes as well as Mustang, but this behaviour was very unusual for such a considerate man. And if Havoc still had any doubts that there was something very wrong, they dispersed in thin air after Scieszka mentioned Douglas.

"Look, I'm sure he didn't mean it," Havoc said in his attempt to calm the woman. "He was probably tired or something. Just go home and I'll talk to him, okay?"

"Okay," Scieszka replied, her hitching subsiding significantly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Do you know where Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is now?"

"The Führer asked to see him in his office."

"I see. Thanks. Bye for now." And with that, Havoc hung up.

"Any problems?" Hudson asked curiously, sensing that the telephone conversation had reached to an end.

"Yeah," Havoc said, stepping out. "Looks like Hughes and I are gonna have to put off the visit to the bar."

"Tough luck, Sir," the guard said sympathetically. "There's nothing better than some liquor to warm your insides on such a cold night."

"Things are already heated enough."

"What was that, Sir?" Hudson said, not catching Havoc's muttered words.

"Nothing. Have a good night."

"You too, Sir."

Havoc just made a small hand motion in goodbye and walked away, allowing the black veil of darkness to swallow him. He didn't have to go very far away though. He crossed the street and walked to a park nearby, taking cover in the shadows.

"What happened?" Roy asked, frowning. "Why didn't you get him out?"

"He wasn't in his office, Sir."

"But you lit your cigarette. That was the signal that he was in."

"He's with the Führer, so I couldn't contact him to get out. But that's not all."

Roy looked at Havoc with an impatient manner. "Well?"

"The Lieutenant Colonel fired his secretary. I'm not sure why, but it happened right after Douglas called him."

Roy cursed through his teeth.

"He knows something. That's why he fired her; he doesn't want her in any danger." He locked his eyes on the building, his hands fidgeting slightly as he held a pair of binoculars. "What did you tell her?"

"That she should go home," Havoc answered.

"Good call."

Suddenly, a pebble landed close to Roy and Havoc's feet, making both men immediately look upwards. Fuery was up in the tree close to the other two soldiers, and he was pointing in the direction of Central Headquarters. Realising that something was happening, Roy brought up the binoculars and looked in the same direction.

"Havoc… Is the secretary a young girl with brown hair and glasses?"

"Yes," Havoc said. "Why?"

"She's just walked out of the gate." Roy lifted his head just slightly so that he could glimpse at the offices. "Hmm… only three lights are on now," he mused. "The one is at the corridors… The other is in the Führer's office… But what's the other room?" Roy lowered his head and, to Havoc's alarm, a gasp of shock escaped his lips.

"Sir, did you see that?" Fuery asked, still perched on the branch. He looked as though about to fall of the tree in his startled state.

"I'm afraid so," Roy replied.

"What is it?" Havoc asked, not really understanding.

Roy lowered his binoculars. And though Havoc had to admit that he had witnessed his superior angry and frustrated and ready to incinerate everything in sight a lot of times during the time he had served under that man's command, this was the first time that he ever saw the Colonel's cheeks lose their colour.

"That shape-shifting Homunculus you told me about… the one Ed fought in the lab…"

Havoc felt like his heart missed a beat. "Did you see him?"

Roy nodded weakly. "He's just walked inside Headquarters in the form of a female officer."

"What about the guard?" Havoc said, surprised.

"He _was_ the guard."

It took a lot to unnerve Havoc, it really did. But the idea that he had only minutes ago talked so casually with the enemy without realising was quite unsettling, to say the least. It was no wonder Ed was so tense when he described his encounter with that… thing.

"So that means they're making their move, right?" he asked Roy.

"It seems so." Roy was gripping the binoculars so tightly now that it was a wonder that they hadn't broken yet. His face was the epitome of cold-blooded calculation, but Havoc could still see the anxiety reflected within them.

"Sir, the target's moving!" Fuery exclaimed at that moment.

Roy reacted at once, bringing the binoculars up again. What he saw through them Havoc didn't know, but the string of curses that his ears managed to pick up told him that things didn't look good at all.

"He's leaving with the Homunculus!" he said. "Tell the others!" he commanded Fuery and, without missing a heartbeat, he grabbed Havoc by the arm and they started giving chase. As they still ran, Havoc could see from the corner of his eye flashes of light; the signal Fuery sent to Hawkeye, Breda and Falman. Nevertheless, Havoc didn't have the luxury of time to think about it much. He focused instead on the pursuit of Hughes and Envy, still running side by side with the Colonel.

They didn't have to run for long. Seeing that their targets had come to an abrupt halt next to a phone-booth, both Roy and Havoc stopped on their tracks as well and hid in the shadows of an alley nearby. They both watched with bated breath as Hughes stepped into the booth, frantically dialling numbers; crying out in frustration and finally placing the receiver down; and they both saw him slashing the 'lieutenant's' throat.

When the Homunculus arose and changed his form, however, Roy instantly jumped forward.

_No!_ Havoc immediately grabbed the Colonel and pinned him face down on the ground.

"Let go!" Roy hissed, struggling to get up.

"He'll recognise you from your alchemy, Sir!" he hissed back near Roy's ear.

Just then, the sound of a gunshot ripped through the air like a knife; just when the great clock-tower of Central, the sole witness of those strange events, ticked over to midnight.

Or rather, _two _gunshots_. _They were simultaneous, but Havoc was still able to tell the difference in the sound. One shot was directed at Hughes, who fell in a heap on the ground, but the other shot got the Homunculus on the head. Blood spilt everywhere and the creature staggered on his feet… yet he didn't fall.

All Havoc could do was stare in numbing surprise at the scene before him. That kind of a wound should have killed any man instantly but, apparently, it wasn't so for the Homunculi.

That didn't stop Roy from drawing a circle on the ground and triggering an alchemic reaction. A flash of yellow light lit up everything for an instant, and then a huge fist sprang from underneath the Homunculus, encasing him tightly. Both Roy and Havoc watched with widened eyes, dreading that the fist wouldn't be able to hold the Homunculus, yet hoping that it would.

Finally, everything grew quiet once more. It was Roy who broke the silence first, glaring in Havoc's direction.

"I may be called the Flame Alchemist," he said with a scowl. "But that doesn't mean I don't know any _other_ arrays, Lieutenant."

Havoc could easily tell that he was blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry, Sir," he mumbled apologetically. But Roy was already on his feet, hurrying at Hughes' direction, so Havoc followed close to his heels.

The Colonel was already kneeling beside his friend and trying to check his vital signs when Riza and Hayate came running towards them.

Havoc clearly saw some smoke in the woman's gun, something that made him smile inwardly. The eyes of the hawk were sharp indeed.

"Are you two all right?" she asked, her breath firm in spite of her sprint.

"Yeah," Havoc answered. "Unfortunately, so is _that_," he added, pointing where the Homunculus was cocooned.

At those words, Riza immediately pointed her gun towards the fist, expecting at any moment the Homunculus to jump out. Soon enough, Breda and Falman also arrived and, knowing what to do after years of training, they totted their own guns in case there were any other unwelcome surprises.

That gave Havoc the opportunity to approach Roy, watching apprehensively as the man opened the lieutenant colonel's shirt. It was sickening to see how quickly the white was replaced by crimson.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He's alive, but I don't know for how long," Roy whispered hoarsely. "The bullet hasn't exited and there's the damage inside his heart and lungs…" he swore in frustration. "He needs a doctor…"

"And a nurse…" Havoc breathed out.

Roy stared at him, eyes widened. "Do you know one we can trust?"

Havoc didn't get a chance to answer. At that moment, Fuery arrived in Roy's car and parked beside the phone-booth.

"Right on time…" Roy murmured. "Falman, Breda… help me put Hughes in the car; you will be coming with me. Riza, you know where we'll be going, right?"

"Yes, Sir," the woman answered with a nod.

"Stay with Havoc. Once he finds the nurse, bring them both there, understood?"

"Yes, Sir." With that, they all rushed into action, hoping that they wouldn't be too late. Fuery started the engine and frantically drove off, whereas Havoc and Riza ran to find the second lieutenant's car.

By the time Envy managed to break himself free from his stony prison, enraged and swearing revenge on whoever did this to him, everyone was already gone.

Roy still paced up and down the living room, hardly paying attention to anyone or anything. Hawkeye and Havoc were still with him, seated on a couple of chairs nearby, no word coming out of their lips. The place was quiet, but all three knew that in the next room two people were giving their own battle to save a man's life.

Roy sighed and rested his back against the wall. His hands kept fidgeting and he tried all kinds of tricks to stop them from shaking, but it was to no avail. The image of Maes covered in all that blood was nerve-racking and dark thoughts about what would have happened if he hadn't come in Central when he did to save that idiot entered mercilessly in his mind.

The way things stood now, it was more than a probability that Maes would die anyway.

_Is this how you would work under me and help me on my way to the top? Taking the bullets and getting yourself killed?_

"Idiot…"

"Sir?" Hawkeye asked, not really understanding what her superior had just muttered under his breath.

"Nothing," he answered. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was sure that he had been unnecessarily snappish, but he couldn't help it. He was tired, he had a headache, and just a few hours ago he discovered that the country for which he had sworn an oath to become Führer and change it to the better was manipulated to enter into a world of anarchy.

The sound of a door opening made him and the two lieutenants turn around. But as it turned out it was the _exit_ door that opened and the people who stepped in were Breda, Falman and Fuery.

"Well?" Roy asked, unable to keep the weariness off his voice.

"We saw a couple of military men exiting the Hughes' residence," Breda answered. "Mrs. Hughes seemed fine though."

Roy nodded his acknowledgement. "That means they probably just informed her about her husband's disappearance." He made an almost absent-minded movement with his hand, beckoning his newly-arrived subordinates to have a seat as well.

"With all due respect, Sir," Falman said, "Maybe you should sit down too."

But Roy wouldn't have it. If he sat down, then his body would probably betray him and he'd break down. Even now he could feel his heart luring him into blinding feelings of despair and he couldn't allow that. He had to be strong for his men and especially for Maes; the time when he would put a gun under his chin, struggling with himself to pull the trigger or not, was over.

Another door clicked open and this time it was Sarah Abbot who entered the room. Roy noticed that Havoc was the first to stand up, looking at her with a concerned expression. Her lips just tugged to a small, reassuring smile and then she turned to Roy.

"We've managed to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding. However, he has lost a lot of blood which needs to be replaced if he's to pull through."

"You can have mine," Roy said at once.

"Mr. Mustang, it's not that easy. We're talking about _a lot_ of blood," Sarah said with a shake of her head. "Still, I have some good news. Maes's blood type is AB positive. That means all of you can give blood, as long as it is positive."

"Then I'll go first," Hawkeye said.

"I'll go second," Fuery said.

In a matter of moments, everyone else had volunteered as well, and Roy now knew that everything would be all right.

When Falman stepped out, it was Roy's turn to walk inside where Maes was. Dr. Knox and Sarah were in the room too, but he hardly paid attention to them. His eyes locked on his friend's wan face and heavily bandaged torso. Maes's glasses were removed and carefully placed on a table nearby, and Roy almost chuckled to notice how different Maes was without them.

He also nearly cried when he realised how different Maes was without that optimistic life-force which annoyed Roy so much in the past. If he hadn't seen Maes's chest rising up and down in such a steady, albeit slow, rhythm, he would have thought that Hughes was already dead.

"You okay?" Dr. Knox's voice sounded close to him.

"I'm fine," Roy answered in a steady tone, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm. He didn't sit at once, as another thought suddenly occurred to him. "Knox?"

The doctor regarded Roy curiously. "Yes?"

"The _other_ body… is it still labelled 'unknown'?"

"Yes," Knox said.

"Well, not anymore," Roy said. "Can you arrange that?"

Knox didn't answer at once, clearly contemplating matters. "Guess I can no longer pretend I'm not involved. I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

The doctor just settled with a pat on Roy's shoulder and then turned to Sarah. "I need some air. If there's any change, let me know."

"Of course," Sarah said. As soon as Knox left, she put on a pair of surgical gloves and told Roy to sit.

Roy complied, now keeping his eyes on Sarah. "Thank you for coming. And I'm sorry for putting you through this," he said politely.

She smiled a bit and carried on with her work. "It was the least I could do," she said.

There was silence for a few moments, during which Sarah patted Roy's arm to find a large enough vein to put the needle in.

"Does your daughter know you're here?"

She shook her head. "She's quite the heavy sleeper, so I won't be missed."

"I see."

There was silence once again.

"Maes poked his nose into something that he shouldn't have, did he?" Sarah asked, still working.

Roy caught himself nodding.

"Do you know how many other military men are involved besides the Führer?"

This time Roy stared at the woman wide-eyed, something that made her chuckle.

"It's only logical," she said, shrugging a bit. "A lieutenant colonel has been shot and yet you didn't take him to a military hospital _or_ inform the Führer. It can't be anything against the State itself, because I know Maes well enough that he would never be a part of _such _a scheme. So that leaves one option: you're working against the military, which, in turn, has secret agendas of its own. Though I have to admit that everything I figured was mere speculation, your reaction confirmed things for me."

Roy closed his eyes momentarily and leaned back when Sarah asked him to. He had to admit that he was bested.

"You have quite the shrewd mind," he said. "The job of a librarian doesn't suit you."

"You make it sound as though it's degrading I _have_ that job," she mused before asking Roy to clench his hand into a fist. "Yet it still gave me the things I wanted when I wanted them."

"Such as?"

"A steady income and a chance to forget."

"That's right… I think I heard Havoc mentioning something about your husband," Roy said. At the next moment, he shook his head. "I suggest that you forget your deductions as quickly as you came up with them. That's what almost cost Maes's life."

Sarah regarded Roy in a steadfast manner, green eyes locking on obsidian-coloured ones.

"Did Mr. Havoc tell you that my husband was killed in action in Ishbal? And that I served there too?"

Roy stared wide-eyed at the woman for a second time. "That explains some things, I suppose," he finally said.

"So I hope you'll forgive my straightforwardness," Sarah said. "All these years I believed my husband died in the name of the peace which King Bradley declared he wished for this country. If what you say is true and this man has some secret agenda of his own at the expense of Amestris, then that war was nothing but a travesty; the real war is _here _and I don't want to live in fear that maybe I will mourn someone else because of it. Not if I can do something to make sure that that doesn't happen. I want… to make a difference this time…"

Roy watched Sarah in mild consternation as her face grew lines of anguish and her lower lip started trembling so violently that it was impossible for her to talk any further. In the end, she gave up and just removed the needle from his arm since she had taken enough blood. "That's all," she concluded, composing herself once more. She turned on her heel quickly. "You should call Mr. Havoc inside."

Though Roy arose, he didn't walk out just yet. He remained frozen, contemplating matters and weighing his desire to protect her, a civilian, against her desire as a mother to protect her child at any cost.

"Mrs. Abbot… I'll tell you everything I know."

She didn't say anything, but her nod was thanks enough. He started talking.

Neither noticed Havoc stepping quietly away from the door, pondering on the conversation he had just overheard.

* * *

When Dr. Knox was back inside the house, he seemed to have realised at once that some kind of understanding was formed between Sarah and the soldiers. So, when Roy and the others decided to gather into the living-room once again to talk, he told her that she could join them as well and he would stay with Hughes. Feeling grateful, the woman thanked him for that and went to sit beside Havoc.

But Havoc pretended as though he didn't acknowledge her presence. He wasn't sure if he could look at her at this point. Instead, he kept his gaze stubbornly locked downwards, the thoughts that were plaguing him right then proving too powerful to disregard in order to focus on what really mattered at this point: how they should proceed next without the Führer or any of his accomplishes figure out that something is up.

One of the things that Havoc did manage to pick up was that Maes's funeral would be done. If the enemy believed that Hughes died anyway, they would become more confident in their movements. Meanwhile, Sarah would take care of Maes with Dr. Knox's help until he was fully healed. On the other hand, Gracia wouldn'tbe informed about her husband for the present. Sarah would keep an eye on the woman and be on the ready to warn the others if something were to go wrong. Havoc was also sure that Hawkeye mentioned Alice's name, even though he still couldn't bring himself to pay much attention. But Sarah said something to the likes of she could stay with Gracia and Elysia – Maes's daughter would certainly need the company for the first few days, at least.

"That settles it then," Roy said with a sigh at that moment. He looked at his watch and let out a small whistle. "4.30. We are supposed to 'arrive' in half an hour."

"I'll get the car ready," Falman said and he walked outside.

"When is your appointment with the Führer?" Breda asked.

"9 o'clock. Although something tells me that he'll be very sad to inform me that Hughes has been found dead in an alley and our debriefing will be postponed yet again."

"How's that supposed to happen?" Fuery asked curiously.

"Knox will see to that."

And that, Havoc thought, was the end of the discussion. He caught himself saying to the Colonel that he would drive Mrs. Abbot back to her house, to which Roy nodded his permission. So it was that, five minutes later, Havoc drove away with Sarah next to him.

Havoc didn't know whether she noticed that something was wrong when he still wouldn't talk to her in the car. He still didn't try to make amends for that silence, nor did she attempt to engage him into any conversation either. That is, until they arrived at her house and she asked him to come inside.

"Maybe I should go…" Havoc started, but his voice trailed off as he kicked himself mentally. Honestly, he didn't know if he could sound any lamer than that.

"Not before we talk," she said, her tone quite adamant.

Havoc sighed.

"All right. We need to talk anyway."

He followed her inside without saying another word. She took off her shoes so that their clicking sound on the wooden floor wouldn't upset her daughter's sleep, and he followed suit. He ruefully watched her go upstairs to check on Alice while he waited patiently into the living-room. A few minutes later, she returned and told him that the little girl was sleeping like a log just as Sarah suspected, something that made him smile, albeit wanly.

Sarah crossed her arms. "So… what seems to be the problem? You've been awfully quiet since we left Dr. Knox's house."

Only then did Havoc force himself to look at her in the eye. "I heard you talking with the colonel."

She looked at him in a bemused manner. "What about that?" she asked, clearly unsure as to what Havoc was trying to say.

"Are you sure about the decision you made?"

"Of course," she answered without hesitation. "I want my daughter to grow up in a safe world."

"Even if she risks losing you?" Havoc asked softly. He took a bold step forward, bringing himself closer to her so that he could take one of Sarah's hands and bring it close to his chest. "Even if _I_ risk losing you?" he asked in barely a murmur, feeling hurt and a bit betrayed.

She sighed sadly.

"Jean…" She used her free hand to gently prod him even closer and touch her forehead with his. "If Bradley isn't stopped, then everything will be lost anyway," she whispered, her eyes still locked on his. "You understand that, don't you?"

"I do, don't get me wrong," Havoc answered, closing his eyes in defeat. "But I…" His grip on her tightened without realising it; he was too caught up in his attempt to explain to her, to make _her_ understand. "I…"

"I know," she said.

Havoc couldn't tell if it was his imagination or her breathing really quickened as she said those two words. Nevertheless, the air that tickled his lips brought him even closer to her and now he could almost feel every inch of her body against his. A strange twinge stirred his insides, making his heart beat frantically. It hurt him, but not enough to make him scream in pain. It numbed him, but not to the point that his legs would give way under him. It dizzied him enough to make him feel like he was floating in water and he had to wrap his arms around her so he wouldn't fall.

"Don't you?" she breathed out, her own grip just as strong now.

Yes, Havoc knew. And that knowledge was that made him claim her lips with his own. It was the reason he parted his lips in order to drink more of that sweet essence that was all her, trying to quench that unbelievable thirst that suddenly settled within his very core. That was why he loosened her ponytail, feeling her long black hair cascading down her back and brushing against his hands; why he moaned at the touch of her fingers on his hair.

It was because of that knowledge that he let her guide him upstairs into her bedroom and he locked the door behind him.

TBC…


	17. Rush Valley

The first one to step out of the train when it stopped in Rush Valley was Winry, of course. Her eyes shone brilliantly as she saw the number of automail stores that surrounded her and she couldn't help but scream her excitement.

"We're finally here!" she cried. "I don't know where to go first. There are so many places I want to see!"

Her other three companions, on the other hand, didn't share her enthusiasm. Ed was walking with the air of someone who just wanted this visit to be over and done with. Al, though not as moody as his brother, still remained close behind, feeling quite self-conscious because of all the attention he got by the bystanders. It was only natural. The people of Rush valley who happened to look at Al's armoured body thought that the boy was equipped from head to toe with automail – a remarkable thing even in these parts. Beregond walked next to Al, quite taken aback to see so many people circulating in fake limbs and even bragging about them to their friends. That made him realise that there were still a lot of things he had yet to see in this world.

Another of Winry's screams made him and the Elrics look in her direction.

"I can't believe it! I read about that model but to see it here is almost too much!" she said, her eyes locked on an automail that she spotted on a window nearby.

"Great," Ed said with a huff, "But do we have to look at every piece of automail escorted by our luggage?"

Winry was ready to object, but in the end she relented. She realised that Ed had a point; all three had to follow her while holding onto their suitcases – hers included.

"Sorry," she said with a sheepish smile. "I guess we should check into a hotel." She looked at Beregond, an expression of concern crossing her features. "Maybe you can have some rest as well?"

Beregond shook his head, smiling. "I'm fine, don't worry. I managed to sleep a bit last night."

Ed, Al and Winry's eyes widened in surprise at hearing Beregond's words. "You did?" they all exclaimed at once.

The Gondorian couldn't help it. He laughed. "What can I say? If Ed can finally down his milk, I can sleep in moving trains," he declared with an almost comical shrug of his shoulders. He wasn't willing to admit that he was simply too tired to mind sleeping in a moving train, even though he was sure that the thought crossed the boys and Winry's minds.

"Which reminds me," Al said thoughtfully. "How did you—?"

"Oh! There's a hotel!" Ed said all of a sudden and rushed at a green building on their left. "Come on, hurry up! Maybe we can have some breakfast while we're at it!"

Winry raised an eyebrow as she eyed him. "With milk, just like before we left?"

"Of course!" Ed answered, even though his words were accompanied with a mischievous grin directed at Al and Winry and a wink towards Beregond.

* * *

It turned out that there _was _breakfast available at the hotel after all. Ed immediately ordered some for himself, Winry and Beregond and then all four settled in one of the table nearby. Twenty minutes later he was sitting back on his chair, rubbing his stomach in a contented manner. Moreover, there was a teasing grin gracing his features, because he had drunk milk again, this time in front of Al and Winry. Not just a couple of sips, but the whole glass. Winry and Al looked as though their jaws would drop on the spot, whereas Beregond just sipped on his coffee, not in the least impressed at Ed's achievement.

He simply made sure that his knowing smile was meticulously concealed by his cup.

Finally, once breakfast was over, Winry wanted nothing more than to walk around Rush Valley and look one more time at the stores. Feeling that it wouldn't be polite to let the girl wander on her own, Ed, Al and Beregond decided to go with her.

"Winry," Beregond asked as they all still walked. "What is an automail made of?"

Winry looked away from one of the shop windows and blinked at his direction, mildly surprised at the question. "Well, it depends," she answered after some thought. "The best ones are made from steel. On the other hand they're very impractical on the northern parts of Amestris due to the harsh weather conditions; so the automail has to be made up of other kind of alloys. Why do you ask?"

Beregond placed his hands in his pockets. "I was just thinking of something," he answered truthfully. "Back in Middle-earth we used mithril for our armour, but I haven't seen anyone use it here."

"Mithril?" Winry echoed. "I haven't heard of that kind of metal before. What's it like?"

"It's hard to describe it, actually," Beregond said, frowning a bit as he tried to find the correct words. "It's quite shiny like silver, if not shinier. It's very light too, but harder than steel or diamond."

The girl tapped her chin with a finger as she contemplated matters carefully. "You know, this is quite interesting. I wish you had some with you so I could have a closer look."

"My armour is partly made of mithril. I can transmute some out of it the next time we get back to East City."

"Great!" Winry said, smiling.

"Wait," Ed said at that moment, looking at Beregond. "Didn't you say that you gave your armour to that professor?"

Beregond shrugged. "Technically, it's still mine. And besides, I want to meet the professor so I can tell him about my encounter with the Ishbalans."

Ed nodded his understanding and the four continued on with their sightseeing. Suddenly, Al pointed straight ahead where a large group of people was gathered.

"What do you think is going on?" he asked wonderingly.

"One way to find out, I guess," Ed said, already heading at that direction.

"I thought we agreed we would have to look around the shops," Winry said, dismayed.

"It will only take a couple of minutes," Edward retorted, slightly rolling his eyes.

And so, all four of the companions approached the circle of people. As they drew closer, they could clearly hear a loud voice urging everyone from the circle to participate in what turned out to be an arm-wrestling contest.

"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen. Try to beat the champion and win the grand prize!" the man was saying. "Isn't there anyone who wants to try his luck against the champ's automail?"

The champion, who was quite huge, flexed both his automail arms with a huge grin on his bearded face.

"Don't be shy, ladies and gentlemen! Show to the rest of the world what _your_ automail is worth by becoming the talk of Rush Valley!"

"Let me try!" a man shouted and stepped forward. "My automail is brand new; I can't possibly lose!"

The two men sat down on the table for the match and the referee gave the go. Five seconds later, the champion had taken down his opponent's arm, smashing it into the table. The sound of the wood breaking was deafening, to say the least.

"Sorry, mate! Better luck next time!" the referee said.

As dozens of automail technicians rushed immediately to offer their services at "once in a lifetime ridiculously low prices", the Elric Brothers, Winry and Beregond remained where they stood.

Beregond crossed his arms, a very condemning look on his face when he saw another automail wielder rushing to try his own strength against the champion.

"That man promises glory," he said quietly, keeping his eyes locked on the referee. "But where's the glory when the fight is done in the name of profit?"

"What do you mean?" Winry asked. She had overheard the Gondorian and she was clearly puzzled by such harsh words. "It's just a game."

"It's a game…" Ed started - only to be rudely interrupted by the sound of the new table breaking in two. The champion had won again.

"… as long as it's played fairly."

The girl's eyes widened. "You mean they're cheating?"

"Yeah," Al affirmed in a whisper. "They're using alchemy."

"Hey, you!" the referee said at that moment, pointing in the four companions' direction. "You, with the automail body!"

If Al were able to, he would have blinked his surprise. "Me?" he asked, pointing at himself.

"Of course you!" the referee said. "You look pretty strong. How about you give it a try?"

The suit of armour immediately shook his head. "I'll pass."

"Aw, pity," the referee said. "It would have been a good fight." His eyes drifted and caught sight of Ed. "How about…?" However, his voice trailed off and he laughed as though he had just realised something very funny. "No, I couldn't possibly ask this shrimp to take on the champ!"

If looks could kill, the reckless fool would have been dead on the spot. Winry and Beregond exchanged a worried glance, whereas Al got ready to grab at Ed in case his brother decided to become violent.

After all, though Ed had mustered the courage to finally admit that he wasn't exactly tall just a few days ago, it certainly didn't mean he had to be called a shrimp to his face.

Ed stepped forward, his teeth gnashing, and sat down in front of the third table that had been placed for the new match.

"Whoa! Got to admit it, you're a feisty shrimp!" the referee said, still laughing.

"Edward! You'd better not lose!" Winry called warningly.

Ed didn't answer, hardly acknowledging anyone. He just leaned forward, glaring at the champion, and placed his automail arm on the table. The champion chuckled in a mocking tone and followed Edward's example.

Alphonse and Beregond were the only ones who noticed _why_ Ed leaned forward. Beregond let out a weary sigh and discreetly reached for the inside of his overcoat.

"Beregond, maybe it won't come to that," Al whispered close to him, understanding what was on the man's mind.

"Better safe than sorry," the Gondorian replied.

"All right!" the referee shouted, cutting Beregond and Alphonse off their conversation. "Ready… Steady… GO!"

The fight was over the moment the word escaped from the referee's lips. In the blink of an eye, Ed had slammed the champion's automail arm on the table, breaking it in the process. The crowd could only just stare at that kind of impossibility with wide eyes like saucers and mouths open.

Except for Winry, that is. She just looked at Al with a grim look and asked: "He used alchemy, didn't he?"

Al nodded.

"I see…"

Something in that tone made Beregond turn to face her with concern. Her head was now bowed, her fringe hiding her eyes from the rest of the world. "Winry?"

"Well, that ought to put them in place," Ed declared, coming up to them with a bag jingling with money and looking quite pleased with himself. "Al, make sure that the people who played get their money back, will you?"

"Yeah… Okay, Brother," the suit of armour answered and took the bag.

"Ed…" Winry said, still not looking up.

Edward blinked. "Yeah?"

His answer came in the form of the wrench, hitting him square on the head.

"YOU'RE AN IDIOT!" the girl shouted at the top of her lungs. At the next moment, she had turned on her heels and hurried away.

"Winry, wait!" Beregond cried, but it was too late.

"Brother!" Al exclaimed, horrified at the sight of Edward on the ground with a huge lump on his head. "What happened?" he asked Beregond, trying to understand.

The Gondorian didn't answer. He only shook his head, saddened.

* * *

Havoc cleared his throat and loosened the collar of his official military shirt just enough that he could breath more easily.

He didn't feel better. The atmosphere in Gracia's house was simply too suffocating because of the heaviness of mourning that filled the air.

Sighing, he checked at his surroundings again. There was too much black surrounding him; nevertheless, he still tried to find one particular person amid the crowd that had arrived to pay their condolences to the grief-stricken widow.

He didn't search for long. He caught sight of her tall, lithe form at the other side of the room. Her daughter was beside her, her eyes slightly widened in an attempt to comprehend what was happening, but her innocence preventing her.

Havoc watched Sarah lean close to Alice and whisper something that could only be translated as: "Stay with Elysia and keep her company." After all, that was precisely what the girl did after she nodded at her mother's quiet suggestion.

"Gracia?" Havoc's ears could easily pick up that single word that flowed out of Sarah's lips when she saw Hughes' wife.

"Yes?" Gracia asked, turning at her direction.

"You should eat something," Sarah said. "You didn't have anything all morning."

"I don't feel like eating anything," Gracia said.

"I understand. But you _need_ to eat," Sarah insisted gently.

Gracia sighed. "Then a toast will be fine. Just ask around if anybody else wants anything."

"Of course," the black-haired woman said and headed for the kitchen.

It was only then that Havoc decided to approach. Nodding and saluting his way through familiar and unfamiliar people alike, he entered the kitchen also. She didn't seem to notice him as she prepared the toast for Gracia. However, when he slipped his fingers through her hair to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips, she didn't act surprised at all. She merely turned to face him, a small, sweet smile tugging on her lips.

"How are you?" he asked, rubbing the base of her neck delicately.

"I'm all right," she replied, leaning just slightly to the touch. However, her smile soon faded. "I wish I could say the same for Gracia."

Havoc nodded his understanding. "What news so far?" he asked in a whisper; he didn't want to risk being listened in on.

"Nothing for the time being," she whispered back, obviously understanding that Havoc was talking about Hughes' condition. "I phoned to the library today. I've already asked for a few days off so that I can stay here with Gracia." She turned to Havoc's direction. "What will you do?"

He removed his hand from her neck, a pang of guilt piercing his heart. "As of tomorrow, I'll be officially taking up my duties again by the Colonel's side. And… there's something else."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and regarded Havoc curiously – and with a touch of apprehension. Havoc bit his lower lip and whole-heartedly wished that he could take back his last words, but he was aware that it was too late now. He had to go through this. He cast a glance behind him to make sure that no one was in hearing range and then grasped one of Sarah's hands with one of his own.

"I meant what I said… I don't want to lose you." His soft tone barely hid the strength with which he spoke. "And the game we're about to play is dangerous."

"Jean, I thought we agreed on this…"

"Let me finish," Havoc said, his grasp tightening just slightly in a signal to hear him out. "If the Colonel's hidden agenda is found out, we, as his subordinates, will be taken down too – as well as anybody else that has been related to us. Even…" He didn't continue; his resolution was failing him fast and all he could do in the end was bow his head in regret.

"You don't want the enemy to know we're connected," Sarah said. She was frowning now, contemplating matters. "Stands to reason, I suppose. They might also try to use that connection for their own ends."

"I'm sorry." Havoc lifted his gaze almost shyly.

However, she laughed quietly.

"For what? We're still together, aren't we?"

Havoc finally smiled for the first time during their conversation. "Yeah… Yeah, we are." And with that murmur, he sealed their agreement with a tender kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Riza looked outside the door to make sure that there was no one walking and then returned her gaze to her superior. Roy had opened all the drawers on Maes's desk and was now looking at all the contents carefully.

"Any luck, Sir?" she asked.

"No." Roy closed the drawers again in slight dismay. "Whatever it was Maes found out, he made sure that it stayed hidden from other prying eyes."

"You could ask help from his secretary. She must know which files Brigadier General Hughes was working on last," Riza said, mentioning Hughes by the rank he acquired after dying in the line of duty.

It was ironic, considering the man _wasn't_ dead.

Roy shook his head. "I would ask the girl directly if the investigation concerning the circumstances of Maes's 'death' wasn't officially put to a halt. The enemy will expect anyone to approach her and start asking her questions in order to discover who's working against them."

"Nevertheless, we might need her help."

"I know. But I don't want to put her into any danger if I can help it."

Just then, Roy and Riza heard the sound of footsteps approaching the office in which they were. They tensed, waiting to see who would walk through that door, all sorts of reasonable excuses to justify their presence in the deceased man's office crossing their minds.

It turned out that there was no need for such an alarm. It was just a young girl with brown hair and glasses who stepped inside, and she was slightly taken aback at seeing the two soldiers.

_Scieszka_, Roy thought at once, recognising her.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I should go…" She was about to turn on her heel and leave, when she froze midway. She locked her gaze on Roy, her eyes widening slightly. "You must be Colonel Roy Mustang."

Roy and Riza exchanged a brief glance before the man faced Scieszka again. "I see my reputation precedes me," he said. "And who are you, Miss?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"I'm Scieszka," the girl answered. "I used to work for Lieu… Brigadier General Hughes."

"I see," Roy answered. "And why are you here now?"

Scieszka flinched at Roy's tone, but she composed herself pretty quickly. "I heard about his death."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And… I've also heard that there won't be any further investigation about his death."

"You've heard correct."

The girl's hands clenched into fists and her eyes welled up momentarily with tears. "But, Sir… it doesn't make any sense," she said; her voice was now quivering. "He was a kind, considerate man. Why would anyone want to kill him? Isn't it the duty of the military to find out?"

"Ms Scieszka," Roy answered, crossing his arms. "It is also the duty of the military to obey orders. If it's been decided that that investigation has reached its end, then it has reached its end. There's nothing I can do about it."

"But… the Brigadier General said about your friendship…"

"Friendships do not matter. I'm first and foremost a soldier in the service of the State."

That, apparently, was all that Scieszka could handle. Trying her best to control her sobs and yet failing miserably, she bowed low. "Excuse me!" she all but cried and instantly hurried out of the room without looking back.

Roy could only sigh as he watched the girl leave. Nevertheless, he didn't regret his harsh words. If she believed that Roy was Führer's obedient dog he wouldn't be suspected for what would happen next.

As for who would approach Scieszka to get the information he wanted – he already had someone in mind.

Speaking of which…

"By the way, Hawkeye… Did you make the proper contacts?"

Riza nodded. "Everything will be ready and sent in three days."

At that, Roy allowed himself to smile inwardly. "Good."

So far, everything was going according to plan.

* * *

It had been several hours since Winry had stormed away, angry at Ed. The sun was swiftly descending to end its journey, showering the town in rich colours of red and gold, yet none of the three companions noticed. In fact, they had all grown awfully quiet, as though afraid that something bad was going to happen if they addressed the other.

In a way, they were. Al and Beregond didn't want to address Ed, because he would snap at them the moment they'd say: "You'd better go apologise." On the other hand, Ed didn't want to address them and rant to his heart's content, because he knew that the first thing the two of them were going to say was: "You'd better go apologise."

In the end, it was Beregond who broke the silence. "It's… getting late."

Ed and Al looked at him briefly, a bit surprised. "Yeah…" Ed said, though he wasn't really certain what the Gondorian was trying to say.

Beregond looked at the sun as it finally plunged behind the mountains. "It's going to be night soon."

Now Ed raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"And… it's winter," Al added, catching on.

Ed regarded Al suspiciously. "So?"

"Winter nights are very cold," Beregond noted.

"People stay indoors at winter nights," Al said.

"And then they're warm and cosy."

"I bet Winry is warm and cosy right now."

Beregond hummed his affirmative. "She might even be less angry."

Ed rolled his eyes and raised a hand in defeat. "Fine, you both made your point. I'm going to talk to her."

"Good," Beregond said at once.

"Good luck, Brother," Al chimed.

Ed didn't bother with a reply this time. He just grumbled something which remotely resembled "Yeah, sure" and walked at the direction of the hotel.

Gladdened at such success, Beregond winked at Al. That earned him a chuckle and a thumbs-up from the suit of armour, and then they both started walking towards the hotel as well. However, neither of them was in a hurry, because they wanted to give Ed and Winry all the time they needed in order to make up. So, they walked and chatted without much care in the world, swapping stories from their days they had to train under their instructors' supervision.

"So you had to survive for a month on that island?" Beregond asked.

"Yes," Al said, nodding in emphasis. "You know, there were times that I thought Brother and I would have died there and that would upset Aunt Pinako and Winry. But I have to admit that we learned a lot."

Beregond couldn't help but smile. He was about to say something about his own mentor, when he suddenly noticed that they were passing by a small shop with all kinds of automail utensils. His eyes scrutinised at the items in thought and then he turned to Al.

It seemed that the same thought had crossed Al's mind too. Winry hadn't managed to get something from Rush Valley because of the arm-wrestling incident and it would have been a pity if she left the town empty-handed.

"Look," Al said, pointing at a screwdriver. "I think she would have liked to buy it. She used to have one just like it, but she broke it two years ago."

"Really?" Beregond asked, a bit surprised that Al would be able to recall something like that.

"Yeah. It was her favourite one, too."

Beregond looked at the suit of armour from the corner of his eye, then at the screwdriver. Making up his mind, he reached for the inside pocket of his overcoat.

"Alphonse… Here." He got out some money and handed them to Al.

The flickers of eyes grew larger, a sign that Al was now gaping in surprise. "No, that's okay – really!" he stammered. He attempted to return the money to Beregond, but the latter wouldn't have it.

"You want her to be happy, don't you?" Beregond said with a broad smile. "So go on. I'm sure she will like it."

"But it's your money!"

"You offered _your_ money when I needed it. Shouldn't I do the same?" the Gondorian reasoned. "Now come on, just take it."

Al's body posture screamed indecision at that moment. In the end though, he seemed to relent because he clenched his fist around the money. "Thank you. I'll return it, I promise," he said, bowing low.

"Don't worry about it," Beregond said. "Go inside."

Al regarded the man curiously. "Aren't you coming in?"

"No," Beregond answered with a shake of his head. "I don't know anything about those things. Besides, I have to go get us some food. We didn't have anything since this morning."

"Okay. Will we meet at the hotel then?" Al asked.

"Of course," Beregond said. He patted the iron shoulder. "Till then!"

"Right!" And with that, Al walked cheerily inside. Beregond watched the suit of armour enter, a smile still on his lips, until he decided it was high time to find a market and get the groceries they needed.

He had just turned a couple of corners and walked down an alley when two very familiar figures stepped in front of him. The Gondorian eyed closely both the automail champ, who was now sporting a new automail arm to match his left one, and his companion.

"Can I help you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He pretended not to notice their angry faces.

"Sure you can!" the referee said. "Your buddy beat us out of all that money!"

"Yes, I know," Beregond answered with a shrug. "He's good like that." He had started walking once more, but the two men stepped into his path again.

"Cut that out! I know he cheated!" the smaller man said.

Beregond cast a warning glare at their direction. "It takes one to know one, I suppose," he answered slowly and patiently before continuing on.

Or, at least, he _tried_ to continue on. The two men blocked his path a third time.

"This is getting tiresome," Beregond said with a huff.

"Damn straight! So hand over the dough."

"I don't have it," the Gondorian answered simply.

"Really?"

At that moment, the automail champion clenched his mechanical arms in a threatening manner.

"Then we'll take yours!"

This turned out to be the worst thing that the referee could have said. In the blink of an eye, Beregond had grabbed his sword from underneath his overcoat and used it to cut the champion's both arms in two.

"You were saying?" he asked, placing himself in a defensive position.

The two men didn't answer though. They were too busy running away from Beregond as fast as their feet would carry them.

"Nothing all that important from the looks of it," Beregond noted to himself. He latched his sword back under his overcoat and headed for the market.

* * *

"Thank you, sir! Goodbye!" Al said cheerily and closed the door of the shop behind him. He looked at the small wrapped box and, smiling mentally, tucked it safely inside his armour. He couldn't believe his good luck. That screwdriver was actually the last available in the shop and there wouldn't be any more for at least a week. He was glad that Beregond had talked him into buying it, because now he knew Winry would definitely be happy.

However, Al's good mood instantly vanished into thin air, because it was then that he caught sight of a large man, who was holding a photograph and showing it to a group of people – obviously asking for information.

A _very_ familiar man, to be exact. And if _he_ was here, then that meant…

_Oh no…_

Making sure that the man wouldn't see him, Al instantly ran to the hotel.

TBC…


	18. Responsibility

When Ed arrived at the hotel, the light of the room he and the others had booked was on. That meant that Winry was inside, just like Beregond and Al had guessed.

That also meant that Ed couldn't avoid talking to the girl any longer. He sighed, but he knew it couldn't be helped; he would just have to grit his teeth and be done with it. So, he used his flesh hand to knock on the door politely.

"What?" Winry asked from inside.

Ed cringed at how annoyed the voice sounded.

"Winry, it's me. Can we talk?"

"About?"

"About what happened this morning."

The sound of a door getting unlocked reached Ed's ears and, at the next moment, the door was open. Winry stood at the threshold and regarded Ed with a raised eyebrow.

"And what is there to talk about?" she asked. Though her voice was considerably low, she still sounded angry.

Ed huffed. "Can I come in first? There's no need to have an audience," he said, pointing with his thumb at the passers-by.

"No, I suppose not," Winry agreed and beckoned the young alchemist inside. As soon as Ed walked in, she closed the door and faced him with her arms crossed. "Well?"

Ed didn't speak at once. He shuffled his legs, looking anywhere but in Winry's direction.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Winry's expression finally softened. "Good," she said with a nod.

"But…" Ed said, "I honestly don't know why you should be upset in the first place. The guys were cheating and you knew it. I just evened out the field."

Winry blinked, looking at Edward with a look of disbelief.

"What?" Ed asked, feeling that he was missing something very important.

She shook her head and walked past Ed to open her suitcase. "I never said they shouldn't be punished, Ed. And I agree, you had to cheat; there was no way you could beat them otherwise." She took out her toothbrush and toothpaste and headed for the bathroom.

Ed's eyes widened. "Then what was the problem?"

"The problem was," Winry said, stepping out of the other room, "that you went looking for a fight. The guys weren't worth it and yet you acted reckless just to prove a point." Her tone became quieter, almost sad. "You could have broken the automail again just because somebody said the wrong thing."

"What are you talking about? That's why I used alchemy."

"Yes," Winry admitted. "But is alchemy going to help you when you don't have a hand to clap? I thought the previous couple of fights should have been enough of a hint."

"That's why I have you!" Ed exclaimed, unable to understand. "You can always fix it whenever that happens!"

Winry stared at Edward as though ready to hit him with the wrench again.

"Do you think so little of my automail?" she asked indignantly. "I didn't give you one so that you can keep breaking it! If I knew that, then I wouldn't have made one for you in the first place!"

Now it was Edward's turn to stare at Winry, wrath boiling the blood in his veins.

"How dare you?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, trying to keep his temper under control.

"Excuse me?" Winry said.

"You heard me," Ed replied, his voice becoming louder. "How _dare_ you say that, when you know that the only reason that I asked for automail was so I could fix Al's body? Or did you actually _forget_ that?"

Winry instantly grabbed the wrench and got ready to throw it on Ed's head, but, at the last minute, she stopped. She simply cast a dejected glance at her friend's direction and placed the wrench back at her suitcase.

"No, I haven't forgotten," she said softly. "But _you_ seem to forget it every time you get yourself involved in meaningless battles."

Ed gasped, her words stinging him worse than any hit with her wrench would.

"Do you know why I gave you your automail?" Winry asked, facing Ed with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Because it's what helps you move forward. Every time I make any maintenance checks or adjustments to it, it's as though I give you one small nudge forward on your quest and I don't feel left out. I don't want to be stuck just waiting for you and Al!" She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands on her lap and her head bowed, doing her best to hide the fact that she was crying.

Ed bit his lower lip. He had to admit that had never thought of it that way.

"Do you think you're the _only_ one who misses Al's face?" she asked him, her voice choked and strained. She covered her face with her hands, full-out sobbing now. "Do you think I _like_ seeing him like this?"

"Winry…" Ed wanted to take her hands into his own and hold her comfortingly; he wanted to tell her how sorry he was for making her cry and reassure her that he would never be so reckless again; that he _would_ fix Alphonse's body, no matter what.

He never got the chance. At that moment, the door burst open and a very frantic-looking Al rushed in. Winry quickly wiped her eyes before Al noticed her in her upset state.

"Brother, you're not gonna believe who's-"

He never finished his sentence, because it was then that he jumped in surprise; someone behind Al tapped the suit of armour on the shoulder. Ed froze when he saw that it wasn't Beregond like he thought at first, but a burly man with large hands and a bearded face.

In fact, it was…

Ed felt all his blood draining from his cheeks. And when Al turned around and saw the man too, the young alchemist was sure that the suit of armour would pale too if he could.

"Ed, do you know this guy?" Winry asked curiously.

He swallowed hard. "Yup… and that means…"

_That means _she's_ here, too._

Well, he wasn't sticking around any longer! He hurried to the window and opened it with the intention of jumping out, but he was greeted with such a powerful kick in his face that it sent him flying back into the centre of the room.

Yeah… there was no mistaking that kick…

"And just where do you think you're going, Ed?" a woman's voice sounded just outside the window. Moments later, the woman herself had climbed inside the room. She looked at Ed with a grim look on her face, locks of her micro-braided hair falling almost in front of her eyes. "You've always been so predictable."

_Oh… crap…_ Ed could only sit up and look at her, a nervous smile on his lips. "Hello, Teacher. What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

Winry blinked. "That's your teacher?" she asked. She looked at the woman from head to toe. "So _that's_ Izumi Curtis?"

"Yeah. She taught us everything we know," Ed whispered.

Meanwhile, Izumi was busy looking around the room as though in search of something. Or rather, someone.

"WHERE IS ALPHONSE?" she bellowed angrily.

The suit of armour got so afraid that he stood on attention like a trooper. "Ma'am!"

Surprisingly, Izumi smiled sweetly and scratched her head embarrassedly. "I'm sorry. I didn't thank you for escorting us here," she said cordially. "Do you by any chance have any idea where I can find Alphonse?"

It was very painful to watch Al at such a shaking state, and his voice was barely audible when he answered quite honestly: "I'm… I'm… Alphonse."

She chuckled. "Right, right, of course you are," she said. "Now, as I was saying…" As the words registered, however, her voice trailed off and her eyes widened broadly. "Wait a minute..."

Al tried to step back on tip-toe and avoid what was coming next but, unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough. In the blink of an eye, Izumi grabbed him by the arm and threw him on the floor.

"So you're hiding in disguises now?" she cried, her wrath burning in her coal-black eyes. "Don't worry, I've heard plenty of stories about my _idiot_ apprentices who broke from every rule I taught them to become scum of the military! Isn't that right, Ed?"

Ed instantly cowered behind Winry, his teeth chattering in his fright.

He and Al were in big trouble and they both knew it.

* * *

Beregond walked back to the hotel with the groceries in his hands, hoping that the others didn't get worried about him. He hadn't expected that there would be so many people at the store and, by the time it was his turn, a half hour had passed just like that. Beregond figured that the least he could do was cook their dinner, so that he made up for his delay.

_Ah… The light is on. _Beregond saw it only too clearly the moment that he turned around the corner and caught sight of the hotel. When he walked up to their room and knocked on the door, however, there was no response.

Beregond blinked in surprise. "Edward?" He knocked again.

The only answer he got was silence.

"Alphonse?"

No reply again. Beregond grasped the doorknob, taken aback to see that the door was unlocked. He quickly stepped inside, looking for any sign of his companions.

"Winry?"

The room was empty. Not only that, most of the suitcases were gone, too. In fact, it was as though none of the children had ever been there.

Something was wrong; Beregond could feel it at his bones. He hurried at the registration desk, ringing repeatedly the bell for the receptionist to come.

"Can I help you?" the man asked as soon as he arrived, quirking an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Yes," Beregond answered at once. "Do you remember the three people that were with me?"

"Of course, sir," the receptionist said. "You were with two blond children and a tall man in armour."

"Right," the Gondorian said. "Have you seen them at all in the last half hour?"

"Only the man and the short boy," answered the receptionist. "They came to check on the girl who arrived quite earlier than them."

"But you didn't see them coming out."

"No, sir."

Beregond swore under his breath and hurried back into the room. He started looking around again cautiously, hoping that he would be able to get some clue as to what might have happened.

The first clue he got was the window itself. It was wide open, and it didn't take a great mind to guess that the children might have exited from there. The second clue was the door. There was no sign of forced entry, which led to two options: the window served as an entrance, too, or that the children let someone in. In either case, it was obvious that Ed and Al didn't try to stop that someone; there were no signs of struggle.

Could it be that that someone was familiar to the boys then? But Beregond was aware that none of the children had been to Rush Valley before.

Unless… the mysterious someone wasn't from Rush Valley.

Perhaps it was someone from the military? Beregond dismissed that idea at once, because there was a very important fact that counteracted it. _He_ was left behind. That meant that that someone only knew about Ed and Al, not Beregond.

So… who was it?

_Someone courteous enough to let the children take their luggage with them, _Beregond thought, remembering the missing suitcases. That was somewhat comforting to Beregond; it meant the children weren't in any immediate danger.

Yet the one important question that had remained hadn't been answered yet. Where were Ed, Al and Winry now?

It was then that he noticed some water spilled on the floor. Beregond approached carefully and knelt down to have a better look at it. His eyes widened when he realised that the water was actually forming a trail leading to the bathroom.

Beregond pushed the door wide open and walked in. There was nothing there either, he had expected as much. Even so, he noticed that the tap wasn't completely turned off. Moreover, when Beregond touched the towel by the sink, he realised that it was completely dry.

Beregond smiled as he understood what happened. The water was spilt on purpose, under the pretence of shaking the hands dry after washing them. The Gondorian knew only one who would pull a trick like that.

_Well done, Edward,_ Beregond thought, quite proud of the boy's quick thinking._ Now let's see what other clues you've left behind. _It couldn't be anything transmuted though, Beregond was quite sure of that. Edward would never risk the intruder, or intruders - Beregond couldn't dismiss that option either - to notice the light of the alchemical reaction. No. If there was another clue, it had to be something subtle. Something that Ed could place in the short amount of time that he had at his disposal while in the privacy of the bathroom.

Something like…

Beregond's train of thought was cut off when he saw himself on the mirror. He grinned broadly.

_I wonder…_

He opened the tap so that hot water streamed out and then waited patiently for the results. This shouldn't take long, but Beregond had to pay attention at all times because he could easily miss it.

Three minutes later, vapours from the hot water started fogging the mirror. A few seconds later, Beregond saw the message Edward managed to write with his flesh fingers on the silver-coloured surface.

_Teacher came. Find Ishbalans._

Beregond sighed. _So that explains matters. _It was quite ironic really. They hadn't intended to go see Ed and Al's teacher, but she made sure that they did anyway. Now, at this unexpected turn of events, Ed made sure that Beregond would see to their true goal of their venture to the southern parts of Amestris.

Beregond turned the tap off and walked out of the bathroom. He shivered as the cold air hit him quite abruptly, so he closed the window. As soon as he locked the door as well, he knelt down beside the bed to take his suitcase from under it, grateful for his forethought, and he started changing to his nightclothes.

Beregond had to admit that he should be grateful; things could have turned out to be a lot worse for Ed and Al. Nevertheless, the Gondorian still felt his heart sinking a bit, because this time he was on his own. More than that, whatever decisions he made now wouldn't just affect _him_, but the boys as well. The responsibility was far greater.

_At least Edward trusts me with it._

It was with that thought hope that he finally settled to sleep, for he had to rest. Tomorrow, he was in for a long ride.

* * *

"This is the worst hour one could have possibly arranged a meeting," Havoc asked wryly. "Couldn't it be put off till morning?"

"Apparently not," Roy answered. He was walking up the stairs with Riza and Havoc following closely behind, so that his meeting with the Führer and his transfer to Central would be officially over. It didn't take them long to reach the great oak door to Bradley's office.

"Wait here," Roy instructed his escorts. Riza and Havoc complied at once and stood at attention by the door.

Roy stood by the door for a few moments, taking a few deep breaths to mentally ready himself; then opened the door.

"You wanted to see me, Sir," he said, saluting.

"Indeed I did," Bradley said quite cheerily. He beckoned Roy inside. "I apologise for the late hour but, as you well know, it couldn't be helped. The late Brigadier General Hughes was a good friend of yours, isn't that right?"

"Yes, he was." Roy sat down on one of the chairs.

"Then I'll try to keep this meeting short for you," Bradley declared.

"You're only too kind, Sir. But you shouldn't be concerned on my account," Roy said smoothly. "The Brigadier General died in the line of duty like it's expected from any soldier. There's no place for grief."

"Noble words, but your face betrays your weariness. I was told that you arrived quite late last night."

"That's true, Sir," Roy said. _Technically._

"Then it's settled; I'll be brief."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Excellent. Now…" and at that Bradley regarded Roy calmly, "Do you know why I asked for your transfer here?"

"I believe it was because your Excellency was impressed by the exploits of two of my subordinates," Roy answered without hesitation.

Bradley chuckled. "Indeed, that's one reason."

This time, Roy raised an eyebrow in mild curiosity. "Are you telling me there are more reasons than that?"

"I'm afraid so. Some them are also quite ominous," Bradley said. "Your subordinates' actions have made me realise that they work for a good, loyal man. And we're now living in times when honesty and loyalty is of utmost importance."

_Quite the coaxing, I have to admit, _Roy thought. That meant Bradley wanted to gain Roy's trust, which was one point against the Führer. It meant he wanted to make sure Roy wouldn't suspect him of anything.

"With all due respect, Sir, but you're saying that as though those two qualities are rare commodities," Roy said, pretending not to understand.

"But they are," Bradley said. He leaned forward, his expression serious. "I think you knew a man by the name of Connors, isn't that right?"

_Ah… here it comes._

"Yes, Sir. We served together in Ishbal," Roy answered. He decided to take it one step further to bait Bradley. "I've also heard news of his death. It was a most unfortunate thing that his heart should fail him at such an age."

"Indeed," Bradley said. "However, there is something that you should know, Colonel."

"Which is?" Roy asked, though he already suspected what Bradley was about to say.

"Though it was decided that we should not inform the public about this, I'm in the uncomfortable position to inform you that Brigadier General Connors was murdered."

Roy widened his eyes in the right amount of surprise. "Murdered?" he echoed, voice faltering perfectly. "How?"

"Poison from the looks of it," Bradley said. "Arsenic."

_No mention of the tea,_ Roy noted mentally. Two points against the Führer.

"I see," Roy said. "Do we have any suspects so far?"

"I'm afraid yes. And it appears they are the ones behind Brigadier General Hughes' death, too."

_Really?_ Roy snorted within his mind. _Third time's a charm._

"Who are they, Sir?" he asked, sounding as though he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

"It has to do with a certain investigation that the late Brigadier General Hughes was conducting concerning a place called Lab 5. And what you're about to hear, Colonel Mustang, doesn't leave this room. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Roy said. "Tell me everything."

* * *

Outside the Führer's office, Riza and Havoc still waited patiently for Roy to come out. They didn't exchange any words at first, but it seemed that the silence started growing quite heavy on them – especially on Havoc.

"Hawkeye… Can I ask you something?"

Riza turned to his direction in surprise. "What is it?"

"It's about Sarah."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "What about her?" she asked curiously.

"She…" Havoc bit his lower lip. "I mean… we…"

Riza smiled knowingly and saved him from the embarrassment of his confession. "I see."

Havoc sighed with relief. "Good."

"I still don't see where the problem is though," Riza pointed out.

Havoc swallowed hard. "Well... We agreed to keep it a secret. I wanted her to be safe, just in case something happened while… you know. But…" He stopped.

"But?" Riza prodded gently.

Havoc shook his head. "What if it isn't enough? She will be treading on dangerous ground anyway."

As far as Riza was concerned, there was only one answer to that.

"If you love her, you'll protect her. That's more than enough."

Havoc noticed the softened expression on her features as she spoke those words, but he didn't show it. He didn't have the time to anyway, because it was then that the door opened again and the Colonel walked out. The two lieutenants immediately started following him again, unsure what to make of things. The Colonel was awfully quiet, and it seemed as though he hardly acknowledged his subordinates' presence.

"Sir?" Riza finally ventured.

"I'm certain now," Roy said, still walking. "The Führer _is_ involved. He blamed everything on an Ishbalan terrorist group. "

"That doesn't explain the presence of the mercenaries," Riza said.

"Indeed," Roy answered. "But that's not all. He said that they were led by a man by the name of Noah, a former member of another terrorist group called the Defiance, which was operating in secret back in the Ishbal Massacre."

Havoc's eyes widened, because he recognised the name. "One of your missions was to uncover them," he said.

"Yes," Roy said. "I even encountered that man."

"And?" Riza asked.

"I torched him to death."

That left the two lieutenants without a doubt either.

The Führer couldn't be trusted.

* * *

Bradley was still in his office when a voice cut him off his thoughts.

"It looks like the dog got the bone," Envy said, stepping out of the shadows.

Bradley, however, wasn't so confident. "Something isn't right."

Envy snorted. "Admittedly, he acted too shocked when he heard about the Brigadier General Connors' death, considering he hated the guy. But you couldn't expect him to throw a party right in front of you, do you?"

"That's not it," Bradley said. "He was too compliant."

"And that's bad because…?" Envy asked.

"A man who allows subordinates like the Fullmetal Alchemist and Sergeant Beregond to take initiatives such as roaming around the country on their own can't possibly be so acquiescent himself."

"But you gave him something that he wants. The death of his buddy cost him," Envy reasoned. He cocked his head. "Did he give you any signs that he knew something more than he let on?"

Bradley had to shake his head at that. "No. But that can still change." He glared in Envy's direction. "There's still the matter of that mystery alchemist who surprised you. He could approach Mustang and tell him about what really happened to Brigadier General Hughes."

Envy grinned. "You leave that bastard to me. When I find him I'm gonna make him wish he was never born. As for Mustang, I'm sure you can think of something so that we can get rid of him."

"Dante's orders were only to keep an eye on him. That's why we brought him here."

"Orders can be revoked," Envy said with a shrug. "You can also have with you someone who seems easier to manipulate if the Flame Alchemist _does_ prove rebellious."

Bradley smirked. "I've already made arrangements on that, too. Lieutenant Colonel Archer's first mission will be to escort me south, where I'll be inspecting the southern military headquarters."

Envy raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment. "What a coincidence. The Fullmetal pipsqueak and his company are heading in that direction, too."

"That's why you'll be coming with me," Bradley said.

"Of course," Envy said with a chuckle. "Have Lust and Gluttony already gone ahead?"

"Yes. The original plan hasn't changed."

Envy's eyes gleamed dangerously.

"Good."

TBC…


	19. Izumi

Winry stood up from her seat and opened the door of the train compartment she was in. She could easily see the Curtis couple having breakfast, even though the couple itself didn't seem to notice the girl. Winry returned to the compartment to check on Ed and Al.

Who were _tied up._

"Are you guys okay?" she asked in concern.

"Ouch!" Ed exclaimed in his attempt to shift in a more comfortable position. He turned to Winry, a very wry look in his eyes. "Do we _look_ okay?"

Winry sat down, shaking her head. "I suppose not."

But Ed didn't really pay attention. He squirmed and kicked in an attempt to free himself. It was still of no use.

"Damn it…" he growled under his breath. "She's taken my watch too."

"And from the looks of it, we're heading straight to Dublith," Al said, his bright red gaze locked on the window.

"I really don't see what the problem is – well, except for the ropes," Winry said. "That's where we where heading in the first place."

Ed and Al exchanged a look of discomfort.

Now _that_ made Winry more than just a little suspicious. She raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked.

It was Al who decided to answer that.

"We should have told you sooner. We meant to back in Rush Valley, but it didn't quite work out that way."

"Oh…" Winry said. She thought about Al's statement for a few moments. "So _where_ were we going?"

"Do you remember what Beregond had said about the Ishbalans back at the hospital?" Al answered. "We were on our way to find them. We were hoping that they might know of another way to create the philosopher's stone."

"You mean… other than sacrificing human lives," Winry added, proving faster.

Al nodded.

Winry folded her arms on her lap. "I see. I wish you could have told me sooner though."

The suit of armour bowed his head. "We didn't know how you'd react."

Her expression saddened. "Because of what happened to my parents?"

Al's silence was enough of an answer. Even Ed had stopped moving about, watching Winry.

"Winry…" he started.

"I'm okay," she reassured both of them. "I mean, it wouldn't be easy for me to be among them, but it wouldn't be that bad either. We all three know that it was a State Alchemist who was really responsible for mum and dad's death."

Ed and Al exchanged another uncomfortable look, because the two of them knew perfectly well _who_ that State Alchemist was. Fortunately, Winry didn't notice them this time.

"What bothers me now is that you guys missed your chance. Not to mention that Beregond is stuck in Rush Valley."

"Not quite."

Al and Winry turned to Ed and looked at him in surprise; there was a small grin tugged on the young alchemist's lips.

"I've already made arrangements."

* * *

"Hello, this is Dean Carson with the latest news. All train itineraries have all been rescheduled due to arrangements done for the safe transportation of the third and last party of Ishbalan refugees out of Central City. The transfer was ordered after dramatic events in which the lives of a number of Ishbalans were put at risk. It has been decided that the refugees will be sent to other Ishbalan camps in the southern parts of the State. Meanwhile, the city of Liore is still in complete disarray because of the ensuing conflict between the locals and the State Military…"

"Excuse me…"

"Yeah?" the man behind the counter asked, even though he was more interested in the news on the radio. He didn't even bother took around to see who was addressing him.

"I'll need a…"

"That's why this establishment exists," the man said. "It's 1500 cenz for an hour and an extra 1200 for every hour."

"Actually, I want to buy. There's a black one with a white star outside that will do just fine."

"Black with a white star?" The man immediately turned around.

"Yes, thanks!" Beregond said, slamming quite an amount of money on the counter and quickly turning on his heel. "Keep the change!"

"But… But…" the man hurried outside to catch Beregond. "That horse isn't broken yet!"

He could only stare dumbly when he saw the black mare, already saddled and bridled, galloping towards Beregond. And when Beregond jumped on the horse without the animal having to slow her pace in the least, the man just watched the rider disappear in the horizon.

* * *

Fuery walked down the hallway of Central Headquarters, holding several boxes and doing his best to balance them in his hands while walking toward the new office that he and the others had been appointed once transferred here. It proved especially difficult when he had to turn the doorknob with his elbows, since no one was around to help him out. Nevertheless, he somehow managed. Falman also eased him off his burden soon enough and helped him take out the contents.

After ridding any kind of junk that needed throwing out anyway, Havoc stretched his back with a loud popping sound and then looked at the mess around. The whole place was _still _flooded with wrapping papers, objects waiting to be placed in a convenient enough place, and huge, empty cartons, which made walking quite hazardous for one's health. Havoc discovered that the hard way, when he hit his foot on a particularly hard typewriter which was on the floor rather on the desk where it _should _have been. He cursed under his breath at the pain.

"I advise you to watch your language while on duty, lieutenant," Riza said. She barely lifted her head as she kept organising the files into the file-case.

Havoc grumbled and decided to light a cigarette instead. His gaze drifted to Black Hayate, who was sitting on his hind legs and wagging his tail with abandon, obviously quite intrigued by the strange game.

"You're the luckiest of us, Hayate," he said wryly. "If you had any thumbs, you would have to work too."

The dog just cocked his head in answer, obviously unaware of what Havoc was telling him.

"Which reminds me," Falman said while opening another box, "Where's Breda? _He_ certainly has the thumbs to help around."

"He said he had to do something first," Fuery said, wiping a small film of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

"Like what? Playing truant?" Havoc asked sarcastically.

He never got his answer though. At that moment, the door burst open and Armstrong's rumbling voice echoed throughout the dishevelled office.

"Greetings, everyone! Allow me to welcome you in the same artful way that has been passed down the Armstrong family for generations!"

Havoc, Fuery and Falman jumped and were ready to run off in case Armstrong started giving out bear-hugs of doom. On the other hand, Riza just passed by the oddly shorter and portlier Armstrong… and ripped off the yellow moustache without so much as missing a beat before continuing with her work.

"YOW!" Breda screamed, holding his upper lip. "Jeez, 1st Lieutenant, that _hurt!_"

"You'll live," she said calmly. "Now get on with your work."

Breda groaned something that sounded awfully like: "No sense of humour whatsoever", but he complied nonetheless. After all, Riza Hawkeye wasn't the kind of woman to be trifled with.

"Very funny, Breda," Falman said, no mirth on his lips.

"You almost gave me a heart-attack," Fuery said.

But Breda just smirked, regaining his good mood. "Still, your faces were priceless," he said with a chuckle. "Besides, we don't know when the Major will strike, so we'd better be prepared for it."

"That won't be necessary," Riza said. "He isn't here."

That caught the other soldiers by surprise. "Really?" Havoc asked. "Where did he go?"

"He's escorting the Führer on inspection of the Southern Headquarters. He left this morning."

"Just him and the Führer?" Fuery asked.

The woman shook her head. "There's also a female private named Cecilia Howard with them, as well as Brigadier General Hughes' replacement."

Havoc snorted, eyes reflecting his wry grimness. "They didn't waste any time."

"So what's that guy's name?" Falman asked.

Riza frowned as she tried to recall the name. "I think it was… Frank something…"

Falman's eyes widened at this. "Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer?"

"You know him?" Fuery exclaimed.

Falman nodded. "He's a man loyal to his military duties - unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" the sergeant-major echoed.

"Yes. He likes wars."

"That also means that the Führer replaced the Brigadier General Hughes with someone who will obey his commands without hesitation as long as it offers him glory in battle." He exhaled a puff of smoke with a huff and looked out the window. "Boss was right all along. We're slowly being driven to war – it has already begun."

"There's also something else," Breda said then. "The Elric Brothers and Beregond headed south too, isn't that right? They could be going after them under the pretext of inspecting the military Headquarters there."

"Nevertheless, there's nothing we can do," replied Riza. "Though the Führer is gone, Colonel Douglas is here to keep an eye on things. We shouldn't arouse her suspicions by doing anything rash."

Though the other soldiers didn't like the prospect of acting as though nothing was wrong, they nodded their compliance. It was what Colonel Mustang had already asked them to do anyway, and they didn't plan on letting him down.

* * *

"You know… I'm surprised."

Ed and Al looked at Winry, finally distracted from their attempts to get their ropes undone. "About what?" Ed asked.

Winry pointed at the direction where she knew the Curtis couple was still having breakfast. "When you talked to me about your teacher, I was expecting to see someone rugged. But she's quite the beautiful lady."

Ed regarded the girl quizzically. "What are you talking about? You've met her before."

Winry blinked in a bemused manner. "I have?"

"Yeah," Al answered. "We officially became her apprentices in Resembool."

"Really? When?" Winry asked.

"Don't you remember?" Ed said. "It was at that day of the heavy rain."

Winry frowned slightly as she tried to recall that time. "Now that you mention it… Hey, that's right! She helped out when the river overflowed. You guys got so impressed with her skill that you kept begging her until she finally accepted you." Her expression saddened as the memories triggered old emotions. "You accepted her challenge to be put under the test for a month before she taught you anything. You guys were so sure that you would pass her test… and you did…"

"Finally!"

Winry snapped her head up as though she had been startled off a dream. "What?"

"My ropes are broken too, Brother!" Al said in triumph.

Truly enough, the ropes had fallen off both brothers and onto the floor. Ed quickly looked outside the compartment.

"Good, they aren't looking." He grabbed his suitcase and opened the compartment door. "Let's run, Al! If we manage to get out now, we might be able to find Beregond!"

"I thought you said you would let him do his part!" Winry exclaimed, seeing what the boys were up to.

Ed shook his head. "That doesn't mean I'm gonna stay here to-"

He never finished his sentence, because it was then that his watch was thrown out of nowhere and hit him square on the forehead. The force was such that Ed ended up on the floor.

"Brother!" Al instantly knelt down to make sure Edward was okay.

He was, if one could consider being unconscious and sporting a huge lump on the forehead as okay.

"You still haven't learned your lesson, have you?" Izumi asked, regarding both boys hard.

Al could only sigh at that. Nope, they hadn't.

Teacher was _never_ caught by surprise.

* * *

Two hours later, the train on which Ed, Al and the others were on board came to its final destination - Dublith. This time Izumi was considerate enough to untie Ed and Al, so that they would be able to follow her on foot, whereas Sig volunteered to carry the children's luggage.

The boys didn't find that comforting in the least. In fact, it seemed that they could barely drag their feet forward and they were both hanging their heads in utter defeat.

"We couldn't run away…" Ed mumbled. His voice seemed to have lost all its strength.

"Yeah…" Al agreed in much the same tone.

"It was such a good life while it lasted, right, Al?" Ed added mournfully.

"I didn't even get myself a girlfriend," Al said, sounding as though he was about to cry.

Winry cocked her head and looked at both of them curiously. "You're acting as though you're heading for a funeral," she noted.

"We_ are_," both boys answered at once.

"WILL YOU TWO BE QUIET BACK THERE?" Izumi roared. "AND KEEP UP!"

Ed and Al flinched and apologised at once. They quickly rushed to catch up with the Curtis couple, since they didn't want to be pummelled to death just yet.

It was then that the most unlikely sound filled the air. Someone was laughing.

"I wasn't wrong when I recognised that voice, I see," a strongly-built young man in his early thirties said. "Welcome back, Mrs Izumi! Hello, Boss."

Ed and Al looked at the newcomer in surprise. "Mason?"

"Eh?" Mason turned at the direction of the boys and eyed them both carefully. His face instantly lit up as he understood who was before him.

"Edward! I can't believe it! You've actually grown some!" he said, laughing once again. He patted Ed's head affectionately.

Ed really wanted to say something about that, he really did. But it was difficult to do anything when Teacher was nearby and she could just as easily skin him alive the minute he raised a finger.

"But… who's this?" Mason said at that moment, noticing Al.

"Um…" Al said quite hesitantly. "I'm Alphonse, Mr. Mason."

Mason's eyes widened. "Al? _Little_ Al? You've grown so much!"

Edward settled with a slight huff and a roll of his eyes.

* * *

When all of them arrived at Izumi and Sig's house, they all settled down for lunch, which was tasty and, more importantly, plentiful. Owning a butcher shop certainly had its advantages.

However, neither Ed nor Al attempted to eat. Winry knew why Al didn't touch his share, but she was quite puzzled in _Ed_'s case. The boy always ate as though there was no tomorrow whenever he could get his hands on food and now…

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked gently.

Ed snapped his head at her direction, as though stirred off some daydream. "Um… I will…" he said lamely.

"Just eat," Izumi said, her tone quite authoritative and adamant.

Ed swallowed. "Okay." And with that, he picked up the fork and knife and started cutting the meat.

After all, since Teacher put it that way, he couldn't refuse.

"Al, won't you have some?" Mason asked then, wolfing down his own plate. "It's quite good!"

Al shook his head nervously. "That's fine… I'm… full."

"Really?"

Al nodded.

"Well, if you say so," Mason said with a shrug. "But I think you should eat. You and Ed are always travelling and you need the strength."

"It would help if you didn't get involved into too many dangerous things as well," Sig noted, his voice thick but with a caring quality. "Izumi wasn't kidding when she said that news of you had reached us long ago."

"But it wasn't all that bad," Al said. "We've even helped out some people. We still do."

"Al."

Alphonse turned towards Ed. His brother was now carrying a warning expression, and it didn't take a great mind to understand what he was asking of the suit of armour.

_Don't tell them about Beregond._

So Al complied. "There was this one time that we helped the wife of a friend of ours give birth."

Ed scratched his head in an embarrassed manner. "Actually, we were more like running around in a state of panic and screaming while waiting for the doctor to arrive."

Al chuckled. "I guess you're right," he agreed. "Still, birth is an important event for the whole family. The mother puts her life on the line for the sake of her baby, but it's a blessing really."

It was then that Izumi smiled - for the first time ever since they saw her again after all these years.

"That's right. You boys were born like that too," she said. "You should be proud of your lives."

There was something in that tone that Izumi used that made Winry curious.

"How about you, Mrs Curtis? Do you have any children?"

The only answer she got was Mason suddenly standing up, hands slamming on the table. That made everyone stare at him incredulously, not really understanding what triggered that reaction.

It seemed that Mason was aware of that too, because he smiled in an attempt to play down on matters.

"I was just… um… wondering," he said. He turned at Ed and Al's direction. "You guys have improved on alchemy, right?"

Ed and Al's eyes instantly lit up. "Yeah, we've been practising ever since we left," Ed said.

"And we've been training our bodies too!" Al seconded.

Mason grinned. "Then you guys won't mind if you show me."

"No problem!" both boys said at once. They quickly arose and headed for the door, scarcely containing their enthusiasm now.

"Wait, I'm coming too!" Winry declared. She wiped her mouth at once and, moments later, she had exited as well. The only ones that were left in the room were Sig and Izumi.

"Izumi?"

It was just one word, but Sig still managed to express his concern.

She didn't answer at once. In truth, she hardly seemed to acknowledge him, because there was now a faraway look in her eyes, filled with regret.

But then she spoke.

"They've seen a life coming into this world. That's good experience."

And with that she walked out to join the others.

If she noticed her husband's saddened look as he watched her go, she didn't show it.

* * *

"So… who's to go first?" asked Izumi. She was now standing beside Mason and her husband, keeping her arms crossed. Her eyes were locked on the boys, her eyebrow raised in expectancy.

"I'll go first," Al said eagerly. Seeing that the ground was particularly soft, he used a small twig to draw a transmutation circle with practiced ease. When he triggered the array, a clay horse sprang out of the ground with a saddle and everything.

Izumi walked up to the statue and scrutinised it for a few minutes, feeling its texture.

"Pretty detailed work," she finally said with a small smile of praise.

"It's my turn now!" Edward declared in anticipation. Before he considered what he was doing, he clapped his hands and placed them on the statue. In a matter of seconds, the horse had sprung wings on its sides and a horn was adorning its forehead.

Al shook his head. "You should pay attention to detail, Brother."

Ed certainly didn't expect that. "What do you mean? It's fine, isn't it?" He turned to Izumi to ask her opinion, but he never got the chance.

She was now regarding him hard, a deep frown furrowed on her thin eyebrows.

"You don't need a transmutation circle to perform alchemy?"

Winry, Sig and Mason could only stare. On the other hand, Ed and Al were now shifting uncomfortably on their legs, because they knew what was going to come next.

"Ed?"

"Yes?" the young alchemist said, swallowing hard.

"Did you see it?"

Ed tried to reply, but he couldn't. It felt as though all ability to talk had abandoned him in his shame. And Al couldn't help either. He had bowed his head, not daring to look their teacher in the eye.

Nevertheless, that was enough of an answer for the woman.

"You've seen it." She looked at Ed indignantly. "That's why you were called a prodigy. That's why you got accepted in the army."

Finally, it was Winry who couldn't take it anymore.

"Mrs. Izumi, what…?"

"Mrs Izumi! Mrs Izumi!"

The tension was quickly dissolved into thin air at the sound of a group of children calling Izumi. Moments later, the children had appeared from around the corner and rushed at the woman.

"What's the matter?" Izumi asked.

"My train is broken," one of the boys said, holding up the toy for her to see. "Help me fix it."

Izumi thought about it for a few seconds, as though deciding what she should do, but in the end she nodded. "Fine. Honey, can you bring me the tools from inside?"

"Sure," Sig said and headed into the house.

"What? Aren't you going to use Alchemy?" another boy exclaimed.

"No," Izumi said simply.

"Why? My dad said you're a powerful alchemist!" said a third boy.

"Because you don't need alchemy to fix this," she answered and took the small tool box that her husband handed her.

"It's quicker and better with alchemy," the first boy argued with a pout.

Izumi rolled her eyes. "Maybe, but you shouldn't depend on it all the time." She picked up the toy and looked at briefly. "One of the axles is just broken." And with that, she took the small twig that Al was still holding and used it to pass it through the wheels of the toy train. Though the result was crude, the twig certainly served as an axle just fine.

The children didn't have the same opinion.

"Eww, it's ugly!" they exclaimed.

"Well, sorry," Izumi said. "If you don't want it fixed again, mind your toys better."

The boys nodded emphatically before grinning broadly and running off again. "Thanks, Mrs Izumi! We'll bring it back when it's broken again!"

"I just told you _not_ to break it!" Izumi cried indignantly.

At that moment, Mason tapped her slightly on the shoulder. "Mrs Izumi…"

"What?" she asked. But when she turned around, she realised what the problem was.

There was a little girl by the gate, and she was holding a cat in her arms.

"Manny? What's wrong?" Izumi asked with concern. She immediately walked up to the girl.

"It's Chiko," the girl said softly. She held up the cat, which had her eyes closed. "She's not moving. Can you fix her?"

Ed, Al and the others didn't say anything. They all knew perfectly well _why_ the cat wasn't moving, but how were they supposed to tell that to the girl?

Izumi seemed to decide that she had to be truthful about things. Keeping her voice gentle, she shook her head. "She's dead, Manny."

Manny's eyes widened, but hope was still reflected within them. "You can still fix her, right?"

Izumi sighed. "I'm sorry, Manny. I can't."

"But…" Manny now stared at Izumi in disbelief. "I thought you could fix anything…"

"Manny…" Izumi touched Manny's chest, just where the girl's heart was beating. "Living things are different from toys. You and Chiko have life. Now that Chiko's life is ended, I can't bring her back."

Manny was trembling now. Tears started spilling down her cheeks and she did nothing to stop them from flowing. "I don't understand… She was moving yesterday…"

Izumi looked at the girl sadly and picked the dead cat in her own arms. "Manny, I can't bring Chiko back. But I can help you make a grave for her."

And so it happened. By the time the sun was setting again, the cat was buried by a great tree outside the town. The girl cried without stop, but Winry was by her side and comforting her in any way she could. In the end, it was decided that Mason, Sig and Winry should take Manny to her home. However, Izumi insisted that Ed and Al should stay with her.

The boys complied. And even though they weren't sure what she wanted with them, neither of them spoke. They knew that they wouldn't have to wait long.

"When you live, your life will end sooner or later," Izumi finally said, her eyes locked on the small grave. "You will have completed your cycle and your part in this never-ending story will be over, so that others may continue where you left off."

There was a small pause, during which the boys didn't say anything.

"I understand all of this, but it's still hard to make a child understand death."

Only then did Ed decide to speak.

"Teacher… Have you ever wished to resurrect someone?"

She tensed, but she didn't face him. "You have asked me that question before. Back when you were still children," she noted. "My answer is the same. The basic strength of a transmutation circle is the nature of the shape itself. The circle represents the circulation of power. By drawing it, that power can be evoked. By understanding this circulation of power and the laws that govern it, you can harness it for yourself. And one who works within this system of flow to create new things… _that_ is the true alchemist." She turned her head just slightly, so we would be able to see him from the corner of her eye. "Everything in this world flows and circulates, including human lives. When a life ends, it has completed its cycle. Resurrecting it is pointless. But you broke even _that_ rule, didn't you?"

Now it was Ed and Al's turn to tense at those words. Izumi simply turned around, her gaze hard and almost piercing them through.

"Al, I know that armour of yours is empty. And I know that two of your limbs are automail, Ed."

Ed bowed his head. In a way, he had known all along that it was only a matter of time before she figured things out, but still the question remained.

"How… did you find out?" he asked with difficulty.

She snorted. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I could tell from your weights when I threw both of you on the ground. Al's body _echoes _and the sound of _your_ footsteps is uneven." She took a step forward. "I'm going to ask once, so you'd better be truthful. What happened?"

"Teacher…"

"Only _once_, Ed. Tell me everything."

"Brother..."

Ed raised his arm, signalling to Alphonse that he would take responsibility of this. He straightened his shoulders and tried to speak.

"We…"

The words got stubbornly stuck on his throat, not wishing to come out. He breathed a number of times in an attempt to compose himself.

"We…"

He clenched his teeth. It was now or never.

"We transmuted our mother!"

The moment that words slipped out, a powerful punch landed on his stomach, making him double over.

"Brother!"

But Alphonse never got the chance to come to his brother's aid. Izumi threw him again on the ground.

The sound of punches and kicks filled the air for several minutes. And by the time Izumi had stopped, Ed and Al were on their hands and knees, badly battered and scraped. She towered over them, eyes relentlessly cold and scolding, and then she extended her arms again.

As that meant only one thing, Ed and Al bowed their heads and bravely awaited the new round of punishment.

It never came. The arms wrapped around both boys' necks in a fashion that could only be described as comforting, even… motherly.

After the shock of the moment subsided, their own expressions softened and leaned into the embrace, accepting it wholeheartedly. For it was then that they realised one thing.

Though she was enraged at their stupidity, she was also relieved that they were still alive.

TBC…


	20. Time To Stand Still

The sound of cantering hooves made all small creatures hurry off before being trampled on by the oncoming horse. Moments later, a black mare with a white star on her forehead appeared, carrying her rider willingly on his errand.

Beregond was sitting quite comfortably on the saddle, in spite of the many hours of riding. For one thing, he felt he couldn't afford to waste too much time anyway. He had arrived the previous night at Mesal, the closest city to Rush Valley, and there he had learned that the Ishbalans were no longer travelling by train. They had decided to continue on foot toward Kishua City.

In a way, Beregond was glad. It meant that the Ishbalans wouldn't be able to travel fast, so he could catch up with them soon. It was true that he could have caught up with them a lot sooner if he had taken a train, but… he didn't feel up to travelling _alone_ in one just yet. Childish fear or no, he couldn't help himself.

And... there was one more reason why he decided to ride out.

He had missed it.

Before he realised it, he patted the mare's neck with a smile. She was a fine beast; strong, with long legs and intelligent eyes, but above all else with a spirit that reminded him of the horses of his homeland. It wasn't difficult to pick her from all the others the wrangler had - or rather, _she_ picked _him._ She was the first to come and greet him when he came to the pen.

He frowned when his hand felt moisture on the black skin. Faenel – as Beregond had affectionately named the horse – was sweating profusely. And when he looked up at the sky, Beregond was surprised to see that he had been riding for a long time, in fact. It was obvious that Faenel kept her pace smooth for her rider's sake, even though she was tired.

Well, the least Beregond could do was reward her with some rest. Besides, he wanted to check the ground for any tracks of the Ishbalans. That was why he decided to come to a halt when his ears picked up the sound of running water nearby.

"Daro," (Stop) he commanded close to her ear. "Agorech mae. Si-hodo" (You did well. Now rest.)

She snorted her acknowledgement and complied. Beregond immediately dismounted and took the saddle off her back so that she would be more comfortable, something that was greatly appreciated by the way her whole body shuddered in relief. Smiling, he gave her a powerful pat to show that she could do anything she pleased for the time being. However, she just followed him up to the small river and then nuzzled him out of the way in a gesture of "I'll go first" before she started drinking water_._

Okay… Maybe she was a bit _too_ high-spirited. Beregond shook his head, even though he had to admit he was amused. Once she was done and went to find some grass to eat, Beregond knelt down and drank some water as well.

It was when he stood up and looked at the horizon that he saw it. It was still some distance away from him, but Beregond still recognised it for what it was; a trail of smoke rising up in the air.

He immediately whistled for Faenel to come to him, for their rest was over.

The Ishbalans were finally within sight.

* * *

Dublith was a city well known for its very picturesque places, especially a large lake on which everyone could enjoy a ride with a boat - even take a glimpse of the deserted island that was located right in the middle of said lake. There were very few people that actually stepped onto Yok Island itself though, since it was preserved as a haven for the forest animals that lived and thrived there.

Still, it was on that island that Izumi brought Ed and Al early in the morning… but sightseeing was the last thing in her mind.

"You've got to be kidding me! 'Stay here and cool your heads'?" Edward exclaimed with eyes still locked on the retreating boat. "Is this some sort of punishment?"

"Well, she also said 'No alchemy'," Al said. He shook his head. "This is all too familiar, Brother."

"Yeah," Ed agreed. "It looks like Teacher still thinks we're kids."

"I don't think so," Al argued. "Maybe she wants us to learn something this time too."

Ed snorted. "Guess old habits die hard, huh?" He didn't say anything else for a while, his brows furrowing into a deep frown as though he was trying to think matters through very carefully. "Hey, Al…"

"Yes?" Al asked curiously.

"This is the perfect opportunity to escape!" Ed said with a mischievous grin.

Al's red flickers of eyes grew large at this. "Are you crazy? You know I can't swim!" he exclaimed.

"Oh… right…" Ed scratched his head embarrassedly. "I can't either." His gaze drifted on the surface of the water and caught a glimpse of his and Al's reflection. His heart sank as unwelcome thoughts crossed his mind.

"We aren't those kids from back then, Al…" he said softly. His flesh hand reached unconsciously for his automail arm and felt its cold surface.

The suit of armour could only place an arm on his brother's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. They both stayed there, gazing at the surface of the water for a long time. Yet neither of the boys could possibly know that they weren't alone.

The scrawny, naked child still watched Ed and Al from behind some bushes hiding in some bushes. Though they were a strange sight to his eyes, he couldn't help but be glad to see others like him.

* * *

"You'd better not go too close. You might fall in the water."

Winry was hardly paying attention to Sig Curtis though. She watched the boat that carried Izumi and Mason finally anchoring back to the small port of Dublith and, as soon as Izumi got out, she went up to her, an angry and confused look in her eyes.

"What are you thinking?" she asked. "How could you abandon them on that deserted island?"

Izumi sighed, a strange smile crossing her features. "How indeed?"

"You know what I mean! What's the point in all this?" the girl insisted furiously.

"Winry…" Mason started, but Izumi stopped him in a sign that everything was well.

"There are times that one has to stand still," she said.

Winry blinked. "What?"

"After moving constantly forward, there might come a time when the goal becomes unclear. And then comes the time for some rest and thought," Izumi explained. "_Now_ is that time."

She didn't say anything else, she just walked back home. As for Winry, she remained by the port, her eyes locked on the island that could be seen clearly even from that distance.

"Ed… Al… "

* * *

"Gramps! Gramps!"

The old Ishbalan rose from the cross-legged position he was in beside the large fire in the centre of the camp and turned around. He was quite surprised to see Rick running toward him in an excited manner.

"What is it, Rick?"

"He's here! He's come back!" the boy replied.

The old Ishbalan's eyes widened at that, staring at Rick incredulously. "Who, little one?"

"_Him! _The foreigner!" was all that Rick said before hurrying back to meet the newcomer. The old man hobbled close to his heels, hoping that he would be able to get an answer if he just went to see what the commotion was about.

As soon as he approached the large crowd that had gathered in the meantime, he got his answer. Beregond was walking up to the centre of the camp, followed by Faenel. Everyone stared at the man, murmuring their surprise and bemusement at such an unexpected arrival, since they thought that they would never see the Gondorian again.

The old man smiled, however, as though he had been waiting for Beregond to appear all along. And when the Gondorian touched his right hand on his chest in a gesture of greeting, his smile only broadened.

"Well met indeed. I'm glad you've kept your promise," he said. "Did you find the boys you were looking for back in Central?"

"Yes," Beregond answered with a nod. "This is why I'm here, in part."

And then another voice filled the air with its exuberant tone.

"This is awesome!"

Beregond and the old man turned around, raising an eyebrow of puzzlement. Rick was looking at the horse with such an awe-struck expression that it seemed he had found a treasure of unbelievable worth.

"Leo! Check this out!"

But Leo, who was standing a bit further away, didn't say anything. He cast a brief glance at Rick, then at Beregond, and then turned on his heel. He didn't bother to look back as he headed back to the tent he and Rick shared.

That hurt Rick; Beregond and the old man could tell only too clearly.

"I guess I wasn't missed by everyone," Beregond noted softly.

Rick immediately shook his head. "Don't think about that," he said reassuringly. "Brother was already in a bad mood anyway."

"Why? What happened?" Beregond asked.

Rick merely turned his gaze on Faenel and patted her neck. "Can you show me how to ride?" he asked enthusiastically.

It was obvious that Rick was trying to change the subject, but Beregond decided to indulge him nonetheless. "I can do something better than that," he said with a grin. "How would you like to take her for a stroll around the camp?"

Rick now looked as though he had been offered the whole world.

"Really? Can I?"

"Of course," Beregond said, laughing. "Just climb up – use your right leg."

Rick did just as he was told and, soon enough, he was settled comfortably on the saddle. Faenel looked at Beregond in an uncertain manner, but he whispered to her ear encouragingly and gave her the command to take care of the young rider.

Faenel finally trotted away, carrying a very happy-looking Rick. The other Ishbalans followed the horse, quite dumbfounded at the sight, and soon Beregond and the old Ishbalan were alone.

"You never seize to amaze me," the old man said.

Beregond scratched his head in an embarrassed manner. "People always tell me that whenever I talk to an animal."

The Ishbalan chuckled. "I was actually talking about your ability to touch a child's heart like that. It has been a long time since I saw such genuine joy in Rick's face."

"Oh…" Now _that_ made Beregond blush. "I see…"

At the next moment, however, a sigh escaped his lips.

"I wish all problems could be solved with just a simple ride."

"Ah…" the old man said. "I see that there's trouble in _your_ heart."

Beregond nodded.

"We'll talk more of that later," the old Ishbalan decided. "First you must have some food and rest. It's the best we can give you as a 'welcome back'."

"Fair advice," Beregond said with a nod. "Thank you."

And with that, they both stepped onto the tent nearby, unaware that two pairs of violet eyes were watching them.

"Well, well, Gluttony. It looks like we have an uninvited guest."

* * *

It was a strange sight to see Al almost up to his chest in water, standing perfectly still. Nevertheless, there was a good reason behind it.

"Well, did you catch anything?" Ed asked. He was waiting patiently on the shore, using a nearby rock as a make-shift chair.

"Wait a minute," Al answered. He stepped out of the water, leaking from all kinds of holes within his armour. "I feel something." Feeling curious, Al opened his chest plate, and revealed three fish inside.

Ed grinned broadly, giving the thumbs up to his brother. "Good job, Al! We've got dinner!"

Al couldn't help it. He chuckled as he picked a fish out from within him. "This is so easy now. Do you remember the hard time we had back then?"

"Yeah," Ed agreed with a sigh, memories of his childhood in this same island flooding his mind. "And that monster that kept chasing us around didn't help matters either."

"By the way, Brother," Al said, looking to his left and right. "Did you notice? We haven't seen it yet."

Ed blinked in realisation. "You're right." He frowned in thought. "I wonder if monsters die of old age…"

The words barely escaped Ed's lips when the sound of leaves rustling made both brothers turn around. But there was no reason for alarm. The culprit stepped out of the bushes and looked at the two humans through intelligent eyes.

"A fox," Ed said with a small smile.

"Actually… two of them," Al noted, pointing at another fox that jumped out of the bushes, urging the first one to follow him back into the woods. Al's eyes flickered as he watched the animals go. "I wonder if they're related to that one that bit your arm back then, Brother."

Ed scowled at once.

"I hope they're not, or we'll have roast fox along with the fish," he declared vehemently.

"Brother, you don't mean that."

"Watch me!" With that, Ed got ready to march after the foxes.

Al immediately clenched his hands into fists. "Brother!"

But Ed laughed out loud and raised his own hands in a gesture of peace. "Calm down, Al! I was only kidding!"

"You'd better be," Al said warningly, not really sharing the humour. He picked the other two fish from inside him. "I'm going to cook these. I'll call you when they're ready."

"Okay," Ed said. "I'm gonna have a look around."

"Just don't go too far," Al said with concern. "You don't know who you might come across."

Ed didn't answer to that. He simply waved his hand dismissively and went into the woods.

The place was more or less the same, and yet Ed couldn't help feeling that things had changed in the last six years. The island seemed a much more welcome place, for some reason - even peaceful. Perhaps it was because he was no longer ten years old and nothing impressed him as dark or ominous or threatening anymore. Now he could smile at the sight of a rabbit, without scheming ways to trap the animal in order to fill his and Al's stomachs. He didn't regard foxes as pests that tried to steal his food. He wasn't afraid for night to settle.

Yes… he _was_ different. Ed could only admit that to himself now.

It was then that he saw a very familiar tree in front of him. With memories still vivid in his mind's eye, Ed walked up to it and looked carefully at its bark until he found what he had been looking for. There were thirty knife-marks engraved there – thirty knife-marks to signify thirty days of isolation and struggle for survival.

But…

_That's weird…_ he noted with a bit of a surprise.

The knife-marks were up to his chest, whereas he could remember quite clearly that he always made them at eye level.

Could it be that… he had grown _that_ tall since then?

_Looks like it._

At that moment, Ed really wanted to jump in joy. He couldn't wait to show this to Al! This was proof that he wasn't as stunted as everybody claimed!

His happy thoughts were rudely interrupted when a metallic gauntlet gripped him from his ear and started dragging him away.

"What the…? Al, what do you think you're doing?" Ed cried in protest.

"Don't play stupid with me, Brother," Al said in a scolding manner. "Are you trying to tell me that you had nothing to do with _this?_" He pointed at what used to be a small fire, except there nothing now but scattered embers and half-eaten fish. "You could have waited a little while longer, you know."

Ed could only stare dumbfounded. "I didn't do this."

Al stared back at his brother, just as dumbfounded. "No?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then who? I was only gone for a couple of minutes to fetch some water!" Al wondered. "Unless… " He tensed at once and started looking nervously around him.

Ed nodded grimly. "Yeah… the monster is still here." He turned on his heel and headed for the forest again.

"Where are you going?" Al asked.

"To look for it," Ed replied. "Maybe Teacher left us in the island so we could deal with it."

Al still had his objections. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Well, we _have_ to go in to find something else to eat anyway," Ed reasoned. "Now come on!"

Al could say nothing to that. He simply sighed and followed, hoping that his suit of armour would be enough in case they found the monster - and he wished with all his heart that they _didn't_.

* * *

If anyone walked into Colonel Mustang's office, they would be taken aback by the quiet that reigned therein. It seemed that everyone was preoccupied with his own business, hardly acknowledging the other's presence as though no one _else_ was there. Falman and Breda were playing Eastern Chess, while Fuery was reading a magazine about radio technology. Havoc was typing some kind of report or other with Hayate dozing off lazily by the lieutenant's legs. As for Riza, she was standing by Colonel Mustang, who was currently sitting behind his desk and signing the papers that the woman handed him.

In short, it would seem that the officers where just spending a typical uneventful day in their office.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

"Is this the last one?" Roy said quite suddenly as Riza handed him another document.

"Yes, Sir," she replied with a nod.

"Right." Roy didn't bother reading the document this time. He simply signed it in a careless manner and gave it back to Riza. "I think I'm done for today."

She didn't say anything. None in the room did, as Roy got up and got his overcoat from the coat rack. But everyone noticed his listless step and faraway look in his eyes.

"Sir, I could drive you, if you want," Havoc ventured.

"I'd rather walk," was Roy's only answer. Moments later, he exited the office and closed the door behind him.

His subordinates could only watch him go with the same look of understanding in their eyes.

* * *

Sarah placed the last clean plate back in its place in the cupboard and cast a brief look around. After she deemed that everything was clean and there was no other work left for her there, she stepped out and saw that Gracia was sleeping on a couch in the living room.

Sarah sighed. These last couple of days had proved quite hard for Gracia; her fatigue was bound to catch up with her sooner or later, and Sarah could understand that only too well. She had been through the same ordeal and, though it had almost been eight years since then, she could remember everything; the sorrow, the helplessness… the vulnerability.

Sarah knew that she could put an end to this grief. She could wake up Gracia and tell her that her husband was alive and that would be that. It seemed so unfair that her friend should suffer like this when there _wasn't_ any real reason. But she also knew she shouldn't say anything. Not now that danger was lurking.

With that last thought, she went to Gracia's bedroom to take a blanket, then placed it carefully over Gracia's form. Gracia stirred a bit in her sleep, murmuring something that Sarah didn't quite catch; but other than that, she still slept on. Feeling reassured, Sarah walked to the room Elysia and Alice were temporarily sharing.

The two girls were already there. Elysia was sleeping on her bed, while Alice was on the floor, writing on a notebook sprawled in front of her. The seven-year-old snapped her head up and looked with bemusement in her mother's direction.

"What is it, Mom?" she whispered.

"Nothing," Sarah said with a shake of her head. "I just wanted to tell you that I'll go out for a little while. Do you remember what that means?"

The girl nodded. "I won't open the door to anybody unless I hear their name."

"And if anybody calls?"

"I'll ask for their name first before I give the phone to Aunt Gracia. If Aunt Gracia isn't here, I'll just tell them she's busy and that she'll call them back."

"Good girl," Sarah said with a smile. "Tell Gracia that I took the spare keys to the house, all right?"

"Okay, Mom."

"And keep it as quiet as possible. Gracia is sleeping too."

"All right."

And with that, Alice resumed with her homework, whereas Sarah headed out.

* * *

Dr. Knox wasn't surprised at all when he heard the knock on the door of his house, for he had a pretty good idea who it could be. Even so, he still checked out the window to keep things on the safe side.

Yes… It _was_ Roy Mustang – the civilian clothes and the black fedora hat didn't fool anybody. Dr. Knox opened the door and ushered Roy inside before anyone recognised the colonel.

"You came to check on him, I guess," he commented knowingly.

Roy nodded.

Dr. Knox sighed and scratched the back of his neck. He beckoned Roy to follow him to the inner room, where Maes still lay pale and unmoving. The IV was attached on his arm and the oxygen mask still clung on his face, giving him precious air.

"He's still in pretty bad shape. He also had a high fever during the night which, thankfully, didn't cause him any seizures," Knox said. "That probably would have killed him."

"Has he woken up at all?" Roy asked. He couldn't hide the hopeful tone from his voice.

Knox shook his head. "It's still too early for that."

Roy didn't speak for some time. He just settled on the chair nearby. "Then I'll have to wait."

"Mustang…"

The look Roy gave Knox made the doctor stop, because it was then that Knox realised that no words of reason would apply – just as they didn't apply the day before.

"I'll let you be," he said simply.

* * *

Sarah walked up to the clerk of the post-office, smiling a bit. "Hello… I believe there's a small package for me. The name is Sarah Abbot. Here's my identification card."

The young girl's eyes brightened in realisation. "Oh yes. I remember what package you're talking about. Hold on a second." She instantly arose, heading for the store-room. She was back a few minutes later, holding the item in her hands. "Can you please sign your name here, please?" she asked, holding up a small form. "It's policy."

"Of course," Sarah answered, taking the pen that the clerk now offered her with a smile. She signed the name clearly; then gave the pen and the form back. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, you're all set."

"Thank you." And with that, Sarah walked out again. When she found a phone-booth, she walked in it and dialled the number that Colonel Mustang gave her.

"Hello?" a woman's voice echoed from the other end of the line.

"Hi, Riza; it's me," Sarah said cordially. "I wanted to tell you that your grandfather sends you his regards."

"Did he?" Riza said. "Did you get your present?"

"Just now. Tell the others."

"Of course. I'll let you know if there's been a change of plans."

"Good. Till later."

"Bye."

Though Sarah hung up, she didn't come out of the phone-booth at once. She opened the package to have a look at the papers and identification card inside. She smiled when she saw everything was in order and placed everything in her bag to keep them safe. Because, thanks to those papers that Lieutenant General Grumman approved with his signature, Sarah had unlimited access to all the books and files stored whether in the Central State Library or in the Military Headquarters.

Yes… a _very_ useful present.

* * *

Night had settled and everything was growing quiet once more. The fire in the centre of the Ishbalan camp was burning as brightly as always, keeping the surrounding tents warm.

It was from one of those tents that Beregond stepped out, stretching his legs with a sigh. Though he did have a rest, his limbs were now feeling unbelievably stiff to the point that they _hurt _- the price for all those hours of riding. It would probably have been a good idea if he rested some more, but Beregond knew that he had to find the old Ishbalan and tell him about the reason he came first. It couldn't be postponed any longer.

He was pleasantly surprised to catch sight of Faenel; she was standing close by, allowing Rick to brush her coat to her heart's content.

"I see you two hit it off just fine," Beregond commented with a grin.

"She's really nice," Rick replied. "Thank you for letting me ride her."

"No problem," Beregond answered. However, his face sobered and he looked at the boy apprehensively. "I hope your brother didn't get angry about this."

Rick shook his head. "I told you, it had nothing to do with you."

Beregond frowned. He remembered Rick's words only too clearly, and that was why he decided to finally ask the question that had formed in his mind.

"Does it have to do with Scar then? I see he isn't with you anymore."

Rick didn't answer. Not at once, anyway. "Because he isn't one of _us_ anymore," he murmured. "He's tainted."

_Tainted?_ As far as Beregond knew, the only thing that Ishbalans considered impure was… alchemy. "I see…" he said softly. "I'm sorry. I know he was your friend."

Rick shuffled his legs uncomfortably. It was obvious that the subject was unsettling for him, so Beregond changed it at once.

"I almost forgot," he said, trying to act nonchalant about it. "Could you do me a favour and find your grandfather? I want to speak to him."

Rick nodded at once, relief evident in his eyes. "Sure. Just wait here." He placed the brush down and hurried off, swallowed by the darkness of the night.

Beregond sighed and looked in Faenel's direction. She merely walked up to him and rested her forehead against his chest in a clear sign that she still wanted to be petted, so Beregond obliged her with a small, weak smile. As he became lost in thought, however, he directed his gaze on the star-embroidered sky above.

"Beautiful, aren't they? Whenever I look at them, I feel that Ishbala is somehow telling us that there's always light to guide us through darkness," a voice said then, cutting into Beregond's thoughts.

Beregond turned around to face the old Ishbalan, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "In my world, the stars are the creation of the Valar. It's a promise that they're always present and watching over things." He paused momentarily before averting his eyes. "Even over those that seem abandoned."

The old Ishbalan nodded in understanding. "Rick told me you wanted to see me," he said.

"Yes," Beregond said. "It concerns my reason for being here." He looked at the old Ishbalan, this time his eyes alight with determination. "At our last meeting, you said that your people used alchemy until they denounced it."

"Indeed, I said that," the old man replied, his expression unreadable.

"Are there any writings saved from that time?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"For my friends' sake," Beregond said, and he explained in a few words everything to the old Ishbalan. About Ed and Al's predicament, as well as his wish to help them in any way he could; about the Philosopher's Stone and its price; and, lastly, about the alternative ways all three were willing to try.

The old Ishbalan didn't say anything for a while, even after Beregond had finished his narrative. And when he spoke, his tone was ominous and sad.

"You realise that you ask of me to show you something that no Ishbalan is allowed to see. Anyone who looks at those papers becomes corrupt and tainted, wishing for power in their fingertips. Even if they believe they want to use that power in a desire to do good."

Beregond tensed. "Like Scar?"

The old man only nodded, but that was enough as an answer.

Beregond sighed, because it was then that he realised that his worst fears had come true. He had hoped that if he had told Scar about his arm and the suffering it caused, then the man would have put an end to this circle of revenge. Now, however, it seemed that all of Beregond's hopes were based on mere wishful thinking. And if Scar wanted to learn everything about Alchemy, it meant he wanted to learn everything about his arm.

Maybe even… how to complete the philosopher's stone.

The thought sickened him.

"All the more reason that I have to look into those writings," he said. "You clearly disapprove of Scar's actions – everyone does, by the way Rick spoke of him before. I agree; your god may one day punish Scar because of what he's done. But that doesn't mean that more people should suffer because of him in the meantime."

"Do you plan on stopping him?" the old Ishbalan asked thoughtfully.

"Only as long as he won't leave me another option," Beregond answered.

"At what price though? Remember, it was the power that alchemy offered that drove Scar down that impure path, changing him forever."

Beregond shook his head sadly. "I'm already changed. I didn't realise it back then, but it happened the moment that I chose to understand this world and became myself involved in it – even if it was with the wish to return to my home one day." He absentmindedly petted Faenel's neck and looked up at the sky again. "Now that I know my home is forever left behind, I still have to keep moving forward in this I don't, the alternative is to look back and I can no longer afford that."

The old Ishbalan didn't have anything to say to that. He could only watch the Gondorian with an expression of sympathy in his eyes.

* * *

A mouse scampered forward, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. The place was quiet, so it deemed that it could venture out for a night hunt. But its plans were postponed the moment that the sound of rustling leaves reached its ears. So, it quickly rushed back into its hall in case a fox had also ventured out for food.

But the large suit of armour and the teen alchemist didn't notice anything of the sort. They were engaged in conversation.

"Well… no luck," Ed said with a sigh. "At least we got ourselves some grub though," he added, holding up the mushrooms.

"It still knows how to keep itself hidden," Al agreed with a small nod. "I just hope it doesn't decide to attack us."

"Just cook these and I'll keep a lookout in case it shows up, okay?" Ed said.

* * *

To their good fortune, the monster decided that it should leave the two boys alone for the night. A quarter of an hour later, Ed and Al were sitting cross-legged on the ground with a cosy little fire burning in front them and the mushrooms getting cooked in a pot Al transmuted for that purpose. When the soup was ready, Al gave Ed his share.

Ed didn't eat at once though. In fact, he hardly acknowledged the tempting aroma of the food as he had become lost in thought.

"What's in your mind, Brother?" Al asked.

Ed traced his plate absentmindedly. "I was just thinking… Do you remember that riddle Teacher told us back then? _All is One, One is All?_"

"Yes," Al answered. "What about it?"

"We had figured it out back then. That's why we became her students."

"I remember."

"And yet it wasn't enough. We also had to realise that trying to bring mom back was a mistake. That's what Teacher had been trying to tell us, only we didn't see it."

Al nodded in agreement.

"And… you were right, Al. She's trying to tell us something again. She now wants us to be sure that this journey of ours to restore ourselves isn't a mistake either."

Al rested his back against a tree and looked up in the sky, where the stars shone brightly. "We're responsible for our actions, whether they're good or bad. We just want to correct our mistakes, if we can."

"And yet here we are, always on the hunt for something that always slips our fingers," Ed answered. "What if this is Teacher's way to show us that what we search for is futile?"

Al's hands clenched into fists. "Maybe it is a futile chase, maybe it is a mistake," Al admitted in a soft tone. "But if we don't move forward… what is left in us?"

Ed said nothing this time. He just followed his brother's example and also looked up at the sky – unaware that a Gondorian soldier was doing the same thing miles away.

TBC...


	21. Wild Child

It was some kind of noise that made Roy open his eyes. He was almost taken aback to find himself in an unknown room and his neck painfully stiff, but soon his memories caught up with him. He remembered that he was in Dr. Knox's room and he had apparently fallen asleep on the chair as he watched over Maes – again; yet something had now woken him up.

Wincing at the popping sounds his neck and back made as he moved, he checked his surroundings. His eyes quickly adjusted to the greyness of predawn that bathed the room and he could see everything almost as clear as day; from the surgical tables to the disinfectants that adorned a cabinet at the other end of the room.

When he saw Maes stirring, however, he instantly stood up and hurried at his friend's side.

"Maes?" Roy kept his tone unusually soft, as though Hughes was just sleeping rather than recovering from what could have been a fatal wound.

Maes didn't answer. He still lolled his head sideways, eyes trying to flutter open in an attempt to drag the weak body away from much needed rest.

Roy bit his lower lip. He knew he should call Knox to evaluate the situation in case there was something wrong with Maes… but he just stayed rooted on the spot like he was mesmerised.

"Maes?" he said again, placing tentatively one of his hands on Maes' shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

It was too late though. Whatever mental struggle Maes went through to regain consciousness had subsided and the injured man was once again lying perfectly still.

All Roy could do was sigh in regret and take his place back on the chair to keep on waiting. He barely moved as time passed and sunlight started filling the room. He didn't say anything when Knox came inside to check on Maes. In fact, he didn't acknowledge anything or anyone until Havoc's voice sounded out of the blue right beside him.

"Sir? It's nearly 9 o' clock. I should drive you to the office."

Only then did Roy stand up, his expression revealing nothing. And when he heard at Headquarters a couple of soldiers commenting on his tired look and whispering in certainty that he definitely had some fun last night, he just left them to their blissful ignorance.

* * *

Beregond watched the rising of the sun from the comfortable spot he had chosen at the borders of the Ishbalan camp, sighing contently when the rays of the sun showered him dotingly. It wasn't a very warm morning, since it was still the middle of winter; nevertheless, Beregond decided it was a very good morning indeed.

Suddenly, his ears picked up the sound of hooves approaching him. He smiled knowingly and turned around to see Faenel.

He was certainly surprised when he saw that the mare wasn't alone. Leo was with her – and he was holding a plate with food.

"I brought you some breakfast," the boy explained. He handed the plate to Gondorian in an awkward manner. "It's not much, but at least it's hot."

Beregond raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Did Rick put you up to this?"

Leo's face became crimson. "He said that he wouldn't speak to me again if I kept avoiding you."

Beregond sighed. "I see." He took the plate with a small nod of thanks, expecting Leo to hurry off now that this obligation was over and done with.

He didn't.

Now Beregond was more than just a bit curious.

"Was there anything else?" he asked.

Leo bit his lower lip and averted his gaze. "I… never thanked you. For helping Rick, I mean. And… I misjudged you. I apologise."

Finally, Beregond understood. Leo wasn't avoiding him because he didn't want to be associated with an alchemist; he was just too proud to admit that he was unfairly prejudiced against the Gondorian.

Beregond couldn't help it; he smiled. "Apology accepted," he said. He was happy to see Leo smiling back as well, seeming as though a great weight was lifted off his chest. It was clear that the boy had wanted to say those words a fairly long time.

It was then that Faenel decided to make her presence known by resting her head on Leo's shoulder_._ That, however, made Leo swallow hard and look at her apprehensively.

"She's not gonna bite me or anything, is she?"

Beregond shook his head, laughing. "She just likes you."

"I'd rather she only liked my brother!" Leo exclaimed.

Now that proved too much for Beregond. At the next moment, Beregond's laughter filled the air, only for Leo to join him as well soon after.

"Speaking of which, where's Rick?" Beregond asked when they both finally sobered. "I'd expect him to be with you."

"Well, he wanted to eavesdrop on the elders. They're talking about you."

Beregond felt his eyes widening. "They are?"

Leo nodded. "It has something to do with whatever you told Gramps last night. I don't know any more than that though."

Beregond didn't need to know more though. He had already realised that they were talking whether they should show him the ancient writings or not.

* * *

When Izumi arrived with Mason at the island, Ed and Al were already expecting her. They were kneeling with the courtesy that was appropriate of a student towards his teacher, waiting for her to speak.

She just looked at them and asked one question.

"Did you remember?"

Both brothers had one answer.

"Yes."

"And?" Izumi insisted.

"We shouldn't have attempted human transmutation," Al said.

"But now that the mistake is done, we must accept responsibility of it and correct it, if we can," Ed added.

Izumi raised an eyebrow, regarding both her students in a piercing manner. "Even if it means joining the military?"

But neither of the brothers wavered.

"Since I joined… every time someone calls me a human weapon, I can't help thinking that I'll be forced to take a life. I don't want to reach to that point."

"But you're prepared for it in order to accomplish your dreams."

That wasn't a question and Ed knew it.

"I have a dream to fulfil no matter what."

Izumi still looked at both brothers for some time, taking in their answers to heart. But suddenly, she tensed and looked at the bushes behind the boys.

"Is someone there?" she asked.

Ed and Al stared at the woman in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You should know!" Ed said.

"Yes, you made us share the island with him before!" Al seconded.

"Wait…" Mason intervened, holding a hand up in a gesture to quieten the boys. "Are you talking about that masked monster?"

"Who else?" Ed and Al answered simultaneously.

"But that's impossible!" Mason exclaimed. "_I_ was that monster!"

If Ed and Al were surprised before, now they were utterly dumbfounded.

"YOU?" the older brother screeched, disbelief written all over his features. "WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS?"

"Well, I couldn't let you two die; so I told him to keep an eye on you!" Izumi explained.

"B-b-but," Al stuttered, his gaze drifting from Izumi to Mason and back. "If _you_ were the monster, then who-?"

"Probably him," Izumi answered, her eyes locking again on the bushes. And, as the boys found out when they turned around, the four of them were being watched.

But the young boy that appeared out of the bushes only smiled at them. Ed, Al, Izumi and Mason stared at the newcomer in disbelief, because the boy didn't seem to be more than ten years old, whereas his hair was long and dishevelled as though it had never been brushed. And the thing that was really curious was the clothes that the boy was wearing: they resembled Ed's down to the last detail of his broad belt.

Ed immediately turned to face Mason.

"Does he work for you?" he asked suspiciously.

But Mason shook his head. "No, I haven't seen this kid before in my life. Besides, I only scared you guys six years ago."

"Why would you want to do that?" Al asked, still not believing that the monster that he had been so afraid of in his childhood turned out to be a fake.

"Hey, I was just doing my job!" Mason said defensively. "Izumi wanted you to toughen up!"

"Nearly dying of starvation and getting our asses beat was supposed to toughen us up?" Ed exclaimed.

"How could you do that to kids?" Al seconded.

That was all that Izumi could take at that point though.

"STOP BITCHING ABOUT THE PAST ALREADY!" she roared, her eyes seeming ablaze in her wrath and both her hands clenched into fists in order to say her _own_ opinion about matters.

That made Ed and Al cower in fear and immediately stutter: "Sorry!"

Izumi just snorted. And with that thing taken care of, she started walking towards the wild boy, who was still watching them all with a smile on his face.

"Teacher?" Ed asked, unsure of Izumi's intentions.

"He's just a child," Izumi answered. "He must have stolen his parents' boat or something and so he ended up here. If that's the case-"

She never finished her sentence, because it was then that she suddenly started coughing violently, blood spurting out of her lips.

"Teacher!" Ed and Al quickly rushed to her side, catching her in time before she collapsed. But the other boy got so frightened at the sight of the blood that he ran off.

"Wait!" Ed cried out.

It was of no use; the boy didn't listen to him. And so, as he didn't see any other option, Ed started running after the boy too. The chase was hard because the boy seemed to know his way about the island quite well. Nevertheless, Ed wasn't willing to give up that easily either. At the first chance, he sprinted and tackled the boy on the ground.

"Good," Ed said, panting. Now that you've stopped running-"

However, Ed was quite taken aback when a flash of light surrounded both of them – a very familiar flash of light. Ed immediately got ready to clap his hands and stop the alchemic reaction, but he never got the chance. Something very hard landed on his head.

"Ow! What the-?" Ed grabbed at the boy's arm.

What he saw almost made his jaw drop.

The boy wasn't holding a stone when he hit Ed; his whole _hand_ was of stone.

"You transmuted your hand?"

The boy didn't answer, he just kept struggling to get himself free from Ed's grasp. Until, finally, there was another flash of light and Ed was shocked to see the clothes change into leaves, leaving the boy completely naked.

"What the…?"

The boy's right arm and left leg didn't match with the rest of his body. In fact, they looked completely different.

Ed didn't have the luxury to contemplate matters, because the wild boy started crying.

"What are you doing?"

Ed turned to see that Izumi had overcome her coughing fit and was now hurrying towards them.

"He was about to get away!" Ed said.

"For pity's sake! He's just a child!" she said in a scolding manner. She signed to Ed to move away at once so that she could kneel beside the bawling boy. It took a lot of coaxing and gentle words, but the boy finally calmed down.

"Where are you from? Where are your parents?"

The boy closed his eyes and bowed his head. When he finally spoke, his voice was no more than a soft murmur, full of uncertainty and sadness.

"I don't know."

Izumi pushed the boy's black mane of hair back. "What is your name?"

"I don't know…" the child said again, another violent sob flowing out of his lips. "I don't know anything!" And with that he started crying again. However, Izumi hugged him tightly.

"You don't have to cry," she said kindly. "Everything is fine."

That tone made the boy stop at once and stare at her in bewilderment. And at the next moment, he buried himself in the woman's arms.

All Ed could do was watch the scene in thought, because he knew that there was something _very_ wrong about this boy.

But what?

* * *

To say that Ed and Al were relieved to be back into Izumi's house would have been an understatement. They were certainly glad to see Winry again, who welcomed them both with a huge smile on her face. As for the boy, he was a bit apprehensive to his surroundings at first, but he gladly accepted the new clothes and the food that was placed on the table especially for him. And so, while he was with Izumi and Sig and eating to his heart's content, the boys and Winry had gone upstairs to the terrace.

"I'm glad you're both okay," Winry said with a sigh. "I really thought you might end up hurting yourselves there."

Ed scoffed. "So much for the faith that you have in us," he said. "We were already used to living on that island."

Winry didn't bother to reply to that, since she had another question in mind.

"So… Did Mrs Curtis forgive you?"

"That would be difficult," Al said; his regret was quite audible.

Winry didn't like the answer at all. "Why?"

"That's easy. We went against her teachings," Ed replied. He placed his hands into his pockets and looked at the horizon thoughtfully. "We knew that we were merely a part of the flow of the world, but we were conceited to disregard that and try to change that flow." He shook his head and kicked an invisible stone. "What we did was unforgivable."

Winry's hands clenched into fists, clearly in a sign of revolting.

"That's nonsense! Everyone makes mistakes!" she cried and immediately turned on her heel. "I'll go talk to your Teacher and…"

Both boys made a small fright-filled sound.

"Winry! It's okay!" Al said, towering over the girl and raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

"She already knows!" Ed seconded.

Though that reaction took Winry by surprise, she apparently decided to listen to her friends this time. She stopped in her tracks and let out a sigh.

"I see… So what now?"

Al made a sound as though he was thinking. "Well… now that we have settled matters here, a good idea would be to try and talk Teacher into letting us go. We have to find Beregond."

"No."

Al and Winry turned in surprise at Ed's words.

"There's something about that kid," Ed said softly. "I'm not sure what, but I need to look into it."

"But Mrs Curtis already notified the police about him, right?" Winry said. "And she said that she would keep custody of him until they get some information about him."

"You don't get it," Ed said with a shake of his head.

Winry rolled her eyes at that. "It's one of those things that you don't want to tell me, is it?"

Ed's silence was answer enough. She heaved a sigh.

"Fine, I'll let you two be," she said. "But you better not get into any trouble."

And with that, she was gone out of sight, leaving the brothers alone.

"Are you talking about those mismatched limbs?" Al finally asked, already aware of Ed's suspicions. "I have to admit they're strange, but that doesn't mean anything."

"It's not just that," Ed said. He looked first on his left and right to make sure no one else heard them; then leaned forward.

"I've seen him somewhere before. I'm positive."

That certainly caught Al's attention.

"You have?" Al faltered. "Where?"

"I don't know," Ed said, but his eyes were alight as determination set in. "I intend to find out tonight."

TBC...


	22. Encounter

It was night when Rick decided to return to his tent. He was a bit disappointed that he didn't manage to pick anything of interest before giving up on his eavesdropping, but there was nothing for it; he was getting hungry and thirsty. He hoped Leo had cooked something for dinner so he could fill his stomach and then talk to the Gondorian. Perhaps he would let him ride Faenel again.

He was quite pleasantly surprised that Faenel was already outside his tent, grazing on a small patch of grass that she happened to find. And if she was there, then that meant Beregond was inside.

Still, that didn't make much sense for a very good reason.

If Beregond was in, where was Leo? His brother wouldn't have the man in the same space with him, after all.

As Rick soon discovered, he couldn't be more wrong. Not only Beregond was inside the tent, but Leo was with him too, talking to him and showing him a book that the boys had managed to salvage after their home was destroyed during the war.

Rick couldn't help it; he smiled at the sight. And there he was, thinking that Leo hated foreigners! It turned out that his brother just needed a little nudge to the right direction. With that thought, Rick cleared his throat to announce his arrival.

Leo turned at the sound and his cheeks reddened when he realised who it was. Rick had to admit that there was something very satisfying when an older brother acted as though caught in the act by a younger sibling. And when he noticed Beregond smiling discreetly, it was obvious to Rick that the man was thinking of the same thing.

"I, uh… thought you wanted to listen to the elders' council," Leo said, trying to change the subject.

"I did, but they didn't say anything interesting." Rick said, sitting close to his brother. "I'm afraid some of them don't trust you," he added, looking at Beregond's direction.

"After what happened with Scar, I don't blame them," Beregond said with a shake of his head.

Rick couldn't help but feel his heart sinking at the mention of the name. Apparently, this didn't escape Beregond's attention, because, at the next moment, his expression became more light-hearted.

"By the way, Leo has been very kind to show me this," he said, patting the book he was holding on the hard cover. "Did you know that the letters are identical to my own language?"

Rick was certainly surprised by this revelation. "Really?"

Leo nodded enthusiastically. "You should have seen him before. He managed to recognise several of the words – even translate a paragraph."

"I just told you its basic meaning, and there were plenty of chances that I could have got it wrong. I'm far from understanding the Ishbalan tongue yet," Beregond said with a chuckle. "I pieced together the words that happened to have a similar meaning in my own tongue, that's all," he explained modestly.

Nevertheless, Rick was impressed. "But that's a start, right? If they let you have a look at the ancient writings, then…"

Faenel's neigh made all three jump in alarm, because there was no mistaking that sound: she was frightened. They all rushed outside and they were shocked to see the mare rearing its hind legs, her large brown orbs widened in terror. Beregond acted at once, rushing at Faenel's side.

"Sedho, Faenel. Avo'osto, im si." (Be still, Faenel. Fear not, I'm here.)

Faenel neighed again, but she didn't protest Beregond's hand on her neck. Soon enough, Beregond's petting seemed to register on her black skin, because she gradually started calming down until she was finally appeased.

"What was that about?" Leo said at that moment. "She acted as though someone was going to hurt her."

Beregond didn't face the children. He just looked in the darkness that was unveiled before him, hardly dispersed by the camp-fire nearby.

"Maybe someone was."

"What do you mean? Who would want that?" Rick asked, not understanding.

But silence was the only answer he got.

* * *

Gluttony still stood by the shadows, wringing his thick fingers nervously. He knew that what he had done was very wrong, but the horse looked quite tasty and there was no Lust around to tell him that he shouldn't eat it. But now he made the tall man aware that something was very wrong. Gluttony could easily see him standing by the horse and checking his surroundings in a suspicious manner.

"Lust won't like this," he murmured to himself. On the other hand, he didn't leave his hiding place. Lust had told him that he should keep an eye on the Gondorian at all times while she spied on the Ishbalan elders, so that's what he intended to do.

It looked like no real harm was done. After a few minutes, the man turned on his heel and prodded the two boys to follow him inside the tent again.

Maybe he could try to eat the horse again?

Gluttony placed a finger on his mouth, trying to think matters through. But that was quite difficult when Lust wasn't around. She knew all the answers and she took care of him well.

So he decided to wait for her and ask her then. For now, he settled with pulling pieces of bark from a nearby tree and chewing them rather noisily. He had become so engrossed in that task that he was caught by surprise when a voice sounded behind him.

"I'll only say this once: Turn around slowly. No funny business or I _will_ hurt you."

Gluttony turned around and came face to face with the point of a blade wielded by the Gondorian he was meant to spy on. He took a few steps back to put some distance between him and the sword.

* * *

Beregond wasn't appeased in the least when he didn't see anyone around that could have upset Faenel. After all, just because he couldn't see anything, it didn't mean that nothing was there. And there was Faenel's behaviour to be considered. Beregond understood that it was too similar to Black Hayate's back at Eastern Headquarters, and his instincts told him that _that_ was hardly a coincidence.

And then Ed's strange words echoed in his mind.

_Did you notice anything strange around you? Like you were watched?_

Well, there was only one way to find out. He walked inside the tent with Leo and Rick closely behind and, as soon as he told the boys to remain inside the tent no matter what happened, he crawled out from the other side of the tent in search of anything out of the ordinary.

It didn't take him long. After all, Beregond remembered Ed telling him about a strange man-like creature that looked like a ball balancing on short, thin legs; a creature called homunculus. And now, there he was, keeping the creature at blade-point and ready to fight if needed.

"Sharp," Gluttony mumbled, pointing shyly at the sword.

"That's right," Beregond said, his eyes unwavering. "So if you don't want to get cut, you had better tell me what you are doing here."

But the homunculus shook his head mournfully. "You weren't supposed to see me. Lust said I should watch you from afar."

_So she's here too? _"Then next time steer clear from any animals that can sniff you out," Beregond said sarcastically. "Were you spying on me in Eastern Headquarters, too?" he asked.

"No," the homunculus said. "That was Envy."

Beregond blinked at that answer, since he had expected a reply more to the likes of: _I'd rather die before I say anything to you, bastard human!_

"It's… nice of you to be honest," he finally said. "How long have you been following me?"

But the homunculus hardly seemed to be paying attention to him anymore. He was looking nervously at each direction and saying: "You have to leave. Lust will be angry if she sees you with me."

Beregond raised an eyebrow at this. "You act as though Lust is your…"

_Wait a minute._ Beregond watched the homunculus for a few seconds more, and he had to admit that the creature was indeed acting like a child afraid of getting caught doing something bad. That meant that there was one other way that he could get out the truth from the homunculus's lips.

"Listen. What's your name?"

The homunculus looked at Beregond curiously through his beady little eyes before answering: "Gluttony."

Beregond nodded and lowered his sword just a bit. He wanted to make himself less intimidating, but that didn't mean he should put his guard down either.

"Well, Gluttony… Tell me what I want to know, and I'll be gone before Lust sees me here."

Gluttony didn't answer at once. He scratched his head in indecision, he wrung his hands nervously; then finally answered: "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'm not leaving then. Your next option is to kill me."

Now Gluttony was really torn. "Lust said I'm not supposed to eat alchemists with potential either."

"Of course not," Beregond said with a snort. Beregond knew that such alchemists, himself included, were perfect candidates for creating the philosopher's stone. "We are useful, right?"

Gluttony nodded, but Beregond hardly paid heed to that as another thought crossed his mind. At first he thought that he was followed to the Ishbalan camp, but then he understood that this wasn't so; it couldn't be. Inhuman or not, the homunculi wouldn't be able to track down a rider so quickly. That left only one other reason that the two homunculi would be here. They were looking for something else – or rather, _someone _else.

"We are useful… just like Scar," he said, looking hard at Gluttony. "You came here so you could keep an eye on him."

"That's true, that was our first intent. But he was gone by the time we arrived here."

Beregond turned around to see a darkly-clothed woman approach him gracefully. He raised an eyebrow as he scrutinised her violet, cat-like eyes; her full, red lips; her almost alabaster-coloured skin; her graceful pose; and last but not least, her tattoo of the ouroboros on her chest.

"I'll take a wild shot in the dark and say you're Lust," the Gondorian said in a matter-of-fact tone. He brought himself in an angle in which he could look at both homunculi at once and so avoid any unwelcome surprises.

"I see my reputation precedes me," the female homunculus said with a smile, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You're quite the unpredictable element, Mr. Beregond. We believed that you would follow the Fullmetal Boy and his brother on their quest."

"It would be quite convenient for you, wouldn't it?" Beregond said through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?"

Lust smirked smugly. "You're a clever man. You already suspect something, don't you?"

Yes, Beregond did. He was hoping he was wrong, but Lust's words didn't leave any room for doubt.

"You're looking for an opportunity to start another conflict, just like you tried back in Central. With that kind of chaos and the death toll rising, you're hoping that an alchemist will take that unholy step and use all the victims to finally create the philosopher's stone..." Beregond's frown deepened. "Either driven by a desire to stop it… or gain further power."

Lust nodded with an _almost_ sweet smile. "That's right."

"Like spiders weaving a web. You make that web bigger with the passing of time in the certainty that some flies will fall into the trap."

She just broadened her smile and let out a small chuckle. "We just give a small push to those who are willing to take that step and will fulfil not only their goals, but ours as well. There's one now that _is_ ready for that step. However," and at that she elongated her nails, "I've overheard a foolish old man saying that you're planning to prevent that."

Beregond's hands gripped the handle of his sword even more tightly, if that were possible. "And now I know why you decided to tell me all this."

"That's right," she said. "It's a pity really. She doesn't want you dead, but I can't just let you go when we're so close and you've gotten yourself so deeply involved."

It was then that she lunged two of her finger-nails, already aimed at the Gondorian's heart.

They never got their target. During that split second, Beregond used his alchemy to create a stone pillar right beneath his feet and thus catapult himself upwards and to the safety of a tree. She rushed forward and tried to stab him again, but he used the shadows to avoid her nails and quickly land himself behind Gluttony, who was watching the scene in puzzlement.

Not a moment too soon. Lust's nails pierced through the make-shift shield Gluttony proved. That gave Beregond a few seconds more to swoosh his sword a few times and create a whirlwind surrounding the two homunculi. Taking advantage of their temporary blindness, he placed his left hand on the ground and performed yet another transmutation.

When the whirlwind finally subsided, both homunculi were pinned up against two rocky walls, their arms and legs safely buckled to their sides.

"I'm sorry," Beregond said, standing up once more and panting heavily. "But I can't just let you go either." He turned to Lust, his expression almost angry. "You said _she_ doesn't want me dead. Is she the one you're taking orders from?"

Lust said only one word.

"Gluttony."

Her companion apparently knew what he was supposed to do, because he immediately _spat_ at the rocky buckles on Lust's wrists and ankles. They dissolved in seconds before Beregond had the time to alchemically neutralise the acid, and the Gondorian had to duck out of harm's way to avoid Lust's nails again. Strands of hair got cut off and fell on the ground as one of the nails got too close, but Beregond didn't have the luxury to think about that. Moments later, he was back on his feet, ready for the next attack.

It never came. This time, Lust only used her claws to free Gluttony, something that made Beregond freeze.

His surprised expression as he watched the scene was apparently quite evident, for she chuckled.

"Don't fool yourself, you didn't win anything," she said. "She would probably forgive me if I killed you several days ago, but now that little… evolvement of yours complicates matters." She crossed her arms and looked at Beregond with what could only be described as curiosity – and perhaps a bit of uncertainty. It was clear that she hadn't expected that turn of events. "Congratulations. You just made yourself valuable again."

Beregond didn't really feel comforted at this. Mustering all his courage against such an evil that could only be compared to the Nazgûl, he set himself in defensive position again.

"I said it before: I can't let you go."

"Enough!"

Beregond and the homunculi turned at that voice at once, surprised by its commanding tone. It was too dark to see, but the Gondorian was almost certain that he could discern lots of forms coming to their direction. His heart almost missed a beat, because he understood perfectly well who it could be.

"Please, stay back!" he cried out to the approaching Ishbalans. "These creatures are dangerous!"

"It is _she_ who should be afraid," said the man who spoke before, now standing beside the old Ishbalan Beregond had befriended. Beregond could easily remember that man's face from the last time he had been among the Ishbalans – his proud stance and powerful build wasn't something that could be easily forgotten.

However, it was what he said next that caught the Gondorian's undivided attention.

"Why do you have the face of a daughter of Ishbala, foul creature?"

"Daughter of…?" Beregond gasped and quickly turned at the female homunculus.

She just looked at each and everyone incredulously, her eyes widened.

"This face is no one else's but mine," she said, yet her voice faltered. "You mistake me for someone else."

But the tall Ishbalan shook his head. "Perhaps I am. The girl I knew and had the face you carry now knew only kindness in her heart. She would never betray her own kin." His countenance grew sterner as he kept regarding Lust bravely. "So why is an abomination like you insulting her memory in such a dishonourable way?"

Lust took a step back; she was now close to _panicking_, a thing that Beregond never thought possible. "You don't know me!"

"No," the tall Ishbalan said relentlessly. "But there was someone who knew your face."

Beregond didn't know what it was that got triggered within Lust's mind, but she grabbed her head with both hands and started shouting at the man to stop. He, like every other Ishbalan that had now made their appearance, could only stare until her torment was over - until with one last hoarse cry, she collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

"Lust!" Gluttony exclaimed, quickly picking her in his arms. "Lust, wake up!"

She didn't respond. And so, for the first time since their encounter, Beregond witnessed _anger_ in those beady eyes.

"I hate you! You'll pay for doing this to my Lust!"

Beregond got ready to fight at those words, but it turned out that it wasn't necessary. Gluttony just turned away and, soon enough, he was swallowed by the darkness of the night.

Only then did Beregond finally let his sword hang loosely at his side, his fingers barely clutching the handle anymore. He could barely lift his left hand to wipe something that was trickling down his neck.

"Wait! Don't touch it!"

Beregond stopped midway, unsure what to think of Rick's reaction. He certainly didn't understand why he was running towards him with some water and a towel.

That is, until he noticed his shirt was quickly getting covered with blood.

"What…?"

"Apparently, one of her claws got you while you were fighting," the old Ishbalan explained. "Sit down for a moment while Rick tends to your injury."

Beregond didn't have much of a choice; he complied and settled on a piece of rock nearby. He heard Rick hiss at the sight of a long scratch at the side of the Gondorian's neck.

"You are lucky," the tall Ishbalan commented, scrutinising Beregond's state. "A couple of inches to the right and you would be dead."

"You still shouldn't have come," Beregond said. He clenched his jaw as the hot water-soaked towel made contact with his skin. "These things care for nothing but death."

"And you? She was readyto kill you! She even said so!" Rick exclaimed. He gasped and placed a hand in his mouth at the next moment, but it was of no use. Beregond was already looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"So it was you who brought everyone – even though I _told_ you to stay in the tent."

Rick didn't say anything this time. He just bowed his head to hide his blush of guilt.

"It is of no matter," the Ishbalan said then. "The other elders and I were coming to see you anyway."

Beregond felt himself tensing. "What is it?"

"You must come with us," the old Ishbalan said. "So you better finish up with those bandages, Rick."

Beregond understood. As soon as his neck was cleansed and wrapped in bandages, he rose to his feet and followed the two adult Ishbalans to the other side of the camp. Suddenly, the two Ishbalans stopped quite abruptly on their tracks.

"What you're looking for is in there," the tall Ishbalan said, motioning with his head to a tent that was separate from all the others. "Enter if you're sure this is what you want."

Beregond looked at the same direction. He suspected what he was shown and, because of that, he felt uneasy for more reasons than just the injury on his neck.

"Was Scar in there too?" he asked softly.

The two Ishbalans nodded slowly.

"Do you know what he found?" Beregond asked again.

There was silence for a while before the tall Ishbalan broke it.

"The answers you seek are in there. If you're worthy, you'll find them."

"All we can do now is wish you good fortune," the old Ishbalan said.

And with that, they were both gone, leaving Beregond alone with his thoughts.

_The answers that I seek…_ Though the Ishbalan's reply was cryptic, Beregond understood perfectly well what he meant by those words.

Scar _was _in there, but the other Ishbalans couldn't find it in their hearts to hand him away like that. Tainted or not, whether he was considered an outsider or not, it just wasn't in the Ishbalan way to show such dishonour. They just showed Beregond the way, and it was now up to him to figure out the rest.

Perhaps it was some sort of final trial, one last test so that Beregond could prove his worth; Beregond wasn't sure. Nevertheless, he would have to see through it. Matters had become too complicated to back away now.

It was with that thought that Beregond eventually walked inside the tent. But what he saw when he entered sent a chill in his heart.

The place was in a mess. There were chests wide-open, as well as books and papers scattered all over. And on the centre of the tent, there was a huge illustration that Beregond knew only too well.

It was the array that symbolised the Philosopher's Stone.

All Beregond's hopes he was wrong about Scar… shattered.

TBC...


	23. Riddles In The Dark

_His shoulders remained slumped forward, his hands concealed in his pockets in a charade of nonchalance. Black strands of hair that hadn't been trimmed in months fell over his eyes because he kept his head bowed; he didn't want to see his friend's shock at the sight of scattered papers and numerous alchemical arrays drawn in the entire study. He wasn't sure if he could stand it._

_He knew this would happen the moment that he beckoned his friend to enter the house, and yet he allowed it to happen anyway. He wasn't sure why. It certainly wasn't because of the apple-pie that Maes brought – the excuse that brought the man to his doorstep in the first place. No. Perhaps he expected him to understand or maybe he didn't want to be alone. Or maybe Roy hoped he would be able to get distracted from the emptiness that was gnawing at his insides._

_It didn't matter now anyway._

"_What is this?" Maes finally asked, but it was obvious he was already suspecting something. _

_Roy didn't answer. It didn't spare him Maes's wrath though. Maes grabbed him by his collar and looked at him straight in the eye._

"_I said: what _is_ this?"_

_Roy shook his head and pried himself off of Maes's grip in a tired manner. "I didn't do anything, Maes. Just forget about it." _

"_You were _going to!_ And I'm not going to let it go as simply as that!"_

"_Why aren't you? Would the world miss a murderer?"_

_His voice was so soft that he wasn't sure if Maes actually heard it. Yet the small sound of disbelief that escaped Maes's lips was indication enough that he did. Strong hands reached for Roy's face this time and cupped it firmly, forcing Roy to look up again into the green-gold eyes that seemed ablaze in a wish to help the young man understand, to make him see reason._

"_It was war. There was _nothing_ you could do. Just be thankful you didn't die along with them and get on with your life!"_

_Roy let his gaze drop sideways. "I don't think I can."_

"_You will have to," Maes insisted. His tone sounded softer, almost comforting in the man's lecturing. "The dead remain dead no matter how many alchemic tricks you've got up your sleeve. If you want to make a difference, make sure that their deaths weren't in vain. Otherwise, there are easier ways to die." _

_As though on their own accord, Roy's eyes locked on the pistol that was on his desk. He knew what Maes was telling him._

"_I had it in my mouth, Maes. I had it in my mouth and I could taste the damn metal and all I wanted to do was end it, but I couldn't."_

"_I would hope so. No sane person can." _

"_Then why does it feel like I'm losing my mind?"_

_Surprisingly enough, Maes smiled and winked._

"_No insane person wonders that."_

_For the first time in a long time, Roy's lips tugged to smile. And as he finally saw some light in the darkness of his despair, Roy sat on a chair with a sigh._

"_You're right, you know. My life, however detestable, _can _have some use." He paused momentarily, looking at Maes with a new fire burning in his eyes. "I have another plan."_

_Maes nodded and sat down across the young state alchemist._

"_Let's hear it, Roy."_

"Roy…"

Roy's reminiscence was cut off at once at the sound of his name, though it was quite weak. Recognising the voice and still unsure if it was his imagination or not, he snapped his head up and looked at Maes.

Who looked _back_ at him through drooping eyelids.

"Hey." He walked up to Maes and sat at his bedside, scrutinising him in case he needed to call Knox. "How are you feeling?"

Maes blinked a couple of times, as though trying to process the question before answering. "Dizzy," he finally said hoarsely. "Where am I?"

"A good friend's house," Roy answered. "We brought you here after you got shot."

There was a small pause again. "Okay," Maes replied.

Roy registered the hesitant tone and he understood. His friend was still quite dazed and probably confused. That meant some things wouldn't make much sense to him for the present.

"What do you remember?" he asked.

"The office…" Maes answered after a few moments. "…Scieszka… A call… I was…"

It was then that he swallowed hard and his eyes grew wide. "No…"

"Maes?"

But Maes was now close to panicking. Worse, he was now almost hyperventilating in his attempt to push himself as far away from Roy as possible.

"Keep… away…"

To say that Roy was surprised would have been an understatement.

"Maes, what-?"

Maes just kept on through gritted teeth.

"Don't… pretend…"

_Pretend? _Roy thought, not sure what the problem was. That is, until he recalled what could have been the last thing Maes had seen before getting shot. He leaned forward as calmly as possible.

"Maes… look at me."

Maes didn't. He got ready to pull out the IVs instead, and Roy had to cup both his friend's hands into his own securely.

"Maes, listen. On our first year in the army, you suggested we go fishing to a river about three hours away. You got us the day off; I got the car; and so we returned a day later and told everyone that we caught about a dozen fish. Do you remember?"

Maes nodded, though he was still nervous. "We… didn't catch… any."

Roy chuckled. "That's right. In fact, we stopped at a small bar and got _so_ drunk that we never _went_ fishing. We just stayed at the bar, where we found some excellent company. Lucy and…"

"…Josephine," Maes completed. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath in relief. "I'm sorry, Roy."

"I understand."

"No," Maes whispered, his eyes still shut. "No, you don't…"

"I know about Envy, Maes."

"It's not just him, Roy…" Maes voice said, his voice becoming softer by the minute. "The whole military is in trouble..."

"I know," Roy said again, but Maes didn't listen to him.

"We're pawns, Roy… pawns used… by a woman who's dead…"

And with that Maes slipped away into sleep, exhaustion from his wound – and his fright – catching up with him. All Roy could do was stare at the sleeping form in thought, trying to figure out what could Maes possibly want to tell him. The only woman that could have used the military was Douglas, something that Roy himself had figured out so far. She, however, was very much alive.

Wasn't she?

Unless…

Roy now realised that he had to find more answers and soon, or it would probably be too late.

øøøø

It was all quiet in Dublith. Night had settled quite peacefully, and everyone was lying on their beds, sleeping – that is, except for two young alchemists in a butcher's house. The one was trying to pick a chained lock that kept the door of their room shut, while the younger one was wringing his metal gauntlets tensely.

"Stop fidgeting, Al, you're distracting me," Ed whispered. He narrowed his eyes and continued on with his work.

Al was still nervous though.

"When I agreed that you should find things out, this _wasn't_ what I had in mind, Brother," the suit of armour whispered back. "Besides, Teacher locked the door with alchemy. If she finds it open, she'll know just whose head to pound."

Ed stopped at once. His brother had a point.

"Okay," he agreed and put the pin back in his pocket, "Then we'll have to get out through another way."

It didn't take him long to figure out another solution. In the next moment, he clapped his hands and placed them on the floor in order to create a hole.

A sigh reverberated through the armour. "That wasn't what I had in mind, either."

"It's either that or nothing," Ed reasoned. "If you're that worried, just fix it once I get down."

Al shook his head. "No way, I'm coming, too. Someone has to make sure we're over and done with this before we get caught."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Ed said, rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, he lowered himself down the hole and landed softly on the ground floor. If his calculations were correct, he was now in the room where the wild kid was sleeping. All he had to do was wake the kid up – without alarming him – and ask him the questions he wanted.

He was quite surprised to see the bed was empty and the boy was nowhere in sight. But, then again, he didn't think of looking _up_. It was Al who found him first, and he tapped Ed on the shoulder so that he could see for himself that the boy was hanging upside down from a light on the ceiling as though that was the most natural thing in the world.

"Um… What are you doing?" Ed asked, uncertain.

"Everyone's dead and I got bored," the boy said with a smile. "Did you come to play with me?"

Edward frowned. "No one's dead, they're just asleep."

"Oh," the boy replied, accepting the answer without argument. "So what are we going to play?"

Neither Ed nor Al found the chance to say anything, because the boy beamed instantly and exclaimed: "I know!" Moving with the agility and speed of a cat, the boy landed on the ground and rushed to a corner in the room. There was a squeaking sound, and then the boy hurried back to Ed and Al, showing them his prize: a small grey mouse.

"We can play with this!" he said with a grin. "I watched you guys play with another one yesterday!"

Ed and Al exchanged a glance at once before looking back at the boy; they both realised what the latter had just told them.

"You've been watching us the whole time? Even while we were hunting?" Al asked, his shock audible.

The boy just nodded proudly.

"What were you doing in the island in the first place?" Ed asked in turn.

The boy didn't listen to him though. He was too busy watching the mouse squirm violently in his hands in an attempt to escape. The boy tightened his grip on it; something that, of course, made the mouse squeak in agony.

"Don't do that!" Ed said. He tried to take the mouse away from the boy, but the boy jumped back with a teasing smile, apparently thinking everything was part of the game.

"Come on, let it go!" Ed said in frustration, reaching for the boy's hands again.

"No!" the boy replied happily, dodging Ed easily.

"You shouldn't play with an animal's life," Al reasoned, deciding to interfere. "Please, put it down."

"No! I play! I play! I play!" the boy cried out, his excitement increasing ten-fold. Soon enough, he was jumping up and down from the bed to a nightstand nearby and back on the floor in a meaningless childish dance, letting out squeals of laughter.

It didn't take a great mind like Edward Elric's to realise things were getting out of hand. The boy was making enough noise to raise the dead from their graves!

"Keep it down, will you? You'll wake everyone up!" Ed said; his tone was torn between shouting at the boy and trying to stay low in case Izumi heard the commotion.

It was still to no avail. The boy just kept jumping up and down and laughing, making Ed more than just exasperated.

"Okay, that's it! No more Mr. Nice Guy!" he finally declared, snapping. Not caring anymore who heard or saw the alchemical reaction, he clapped his hands and placed them on the bed.

By the time the boy had realised that something was going on, it was too late. The large rope that was transmuted out of the sheets had already tangled itself around his ankles, making him trip. The boy fell on the bed with a soft thud, letting go of the mouse in his surprise.

Even so, he didn't see anything wrong with the rope, still thinking it was all part of the game. He grinned in Ed's direction.

"That was fun! Can you do it again?"

Ed regarded the boy in a hard manner. "You can do that too, can't you?"

The boy blinked, not expecting the question. "No."

"Don't lie!" cried Edward. "You transmuted your hand! And you transmuted those leaves into clothes, didn't you?"

"Brother, calm down," Al said in an attempt to smooth matters.

"Calm down?" Ed turned around and faced Al. "I saw him perform alchemy without a transmutation circle; he didn't even clap his hands, like Teacher and I do! Beregond is about the only one we know who can do _that!_ Don't you think that's weird?"

"I do, but you should let him go. You're upsetting him." Alphonse replied.

Sure enough, the boy was now trying to get the rope undone, an expression of frustration and a rising panic on his face. Ed watched the boy struggle for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

"What's the matter? Just use your alchemy."

The boy only started trying to kick his legs free. "Untie it! Untie it!"

That was a sight that Al's gentle nature couldn't stand.

"Brother, I realise you have your reasons to suspect that boy, but does that give you an excuse to treat him this way?" he asked, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I've already told you I've seen his face somewhere before," Ed answered, his eyes still relentlessly locked on the boy. "I'm not leaving before I find out where."

"Brother…"

Al never completed his sentence, because it was then that blue light filled the room. Both brothers watched aghast as the transmutation took place, and they felt horrified when they realised that the boy's legs were gone, replaced by the whole bed.

The boy screamed in terror.

"Ed, what did you do?" Al asked, his red flickers of eyes brightening in shock.

"I didn't do anything!" Ed answered at once. "I couldn't transmute a body to a bed even if I wanted to!"

"Well, fix it before-!"

It was already too late. The door burst open and a _very_ cranky-looking Izumi entered the door.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, DISRUPTING MY SLEEP LIKE THAT?"

The brothers knew that they were doomed, so they just cowered in a corner, stammering apologies and waiting for their inevitable punishment. But Sig, who had followed his wife closely behind when they heard the noise, pointed out to Izumi the _real _problem.

"Please!" the boy cried to Izumi. "Change it back! Change it back!"

"We didn't do that!" Ed said at once.

"It's true!" Alphonse seconded. "Brother is a frequent liar, but he's telling the truth this time!"

Ed cast a sidelong glance to his brother's direction. "Gee, thanks, Al..."

Izumi sighed and walked up to the bed, examining the results of the transmutation from up close. "I know neither of you did that. I never taught you such senseless alchemy."

"Put me down! Put me down!" the boy cried, nearly hysterical.

"STOP CRYING!"

It worked like a charm. The boy stopped at once, looking at Izumi with wide open eyes. Izumi, however, just smiled kindly and took his hand in one of hers.

"It's going to be fine," she assured him. "Just close your eyes and try to remember your own form."

The boy nodded and did as he was told. He closed his eyes and, soon enough, there was another alchemical reaction and he was free. He immediately wrapped his arms around Izumi, bursting into tears once more.

It was then that Al noticed something very strange about the boy's right arm. For there was a large scar on the bicep that looked awfully much like…

"YOU STUPID APPRENTICES! WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO TO THAT CHILD?"

Al and Ed nearly jumped. Such was their fright that they almost didn't dare say anything.

"We were worried," Ed finally said shakily. "We wanted to be sure he meant no harm to us."

Izumi glared at Ed. "And why would you be worried about that?"

It was Al who decided to answer that. "Teacher, there are some things we didn't tell you."

"Al…" Ed started.

"No, Brother. They need to know."

"Know what?" Sig asked then.

Ed sighed. There was no turning back now.

"It's a long story," he said.

"I see," Izumi said thoughtfully, still holding the boy comfortingly. "Very well, we'll talk about it in the morning. But…" and at that her voice became a snarl, "you'd better say _everything_ this time!"


	24. In Search For Answers

As dawn came, the military headquarters in Central City was bustling with life. Even so, no one knew that on the top floor of the building, inside the Führer's office, a woman known as Colonel Juliette Douglas was having a strange conversation with the leader of the State over the phone.

"Yes, there has been no news of them as of yet," Sloth said. "They were last seen in Rush Valley and that's it."

"This is extra work for me since you lost track of them. I'm pretty busy, you know," Pride said in a scolding manner. "However, we might still be able to find them. They must have had reason to head south. What is here that is important to the boys?"

Sloth didn't answer at once, as she looked for the Fullmetal's case file in one of the drawers in her desk. As soon as she found it, she scanned it quickly to find the information she wanted. "Their teacher lives in a town called Dublith. They may be there."

"Very well," Pride said. "I'll make sure I'll pass through Dublith as part of my inspection trip. If they are there, it means they haven't given up on creating the philosopher's stone, which works to our advantage."

"Nevertheless, we should give them further motive soon. The Lab 5 incident has already proven a severe blow to them."

"Speaking of which, what have you done with the files? We don't want any more people to come across them any time soon."

"I've already hidden them. And I've also destroyed the files concerning the war in Ishbal."

Pride didn't speak for several moments, clearly in thought. "That was a bold movement. Let us hope it has gone unnoticed."

"There's most probably at least one alchemist that knows the truth. We might as well get rid of any evidence to back up any allegations uttered against our person," Sloth said.

"Whoever they are that try to debunk us, the fact that they decided to keep their mouths shut at the moment shows that they don't have a plan to confront us," Pride argued. "That should give you enough time to find them."

"Of course. I've already started a search to find any alchemists that could have been near the vicinity of Brigadier General Hughes' execution."

"Excellent. Did anyone try to contact Mustang?"

"No."

"Good," Pride mused. "I think it's time we give our dog another bone to bite."

Sloth chuckled, but there was hardly any mirth detected in that deceivingly sweet voice. "Of course. I'll phone you as soon as I have results."

And with that, the female homunculus hung up. As soon as she put the receiver down, she walked up to the door and called the soldier that was standing on guard.

"I wish to speak to Colonel Roy Mustang. Bring him here at once."

øøøø

The wild boy was still sleeping, which was something of a blessing after the shock that he went through the night before. Nevertheless, Winry was appointed the task of staying with him in the room in case he wanted anything once he was up.

This was also the excuse for Izumi and the boys to talk in private. It was true that Sig was with them, but he had made it perfectly clear he had no intention of participating in the conversation. His job was to make sure no one tried to eavesdrop.

And so, Ed and Al started explaining to Izumi how things _really_ stood. It was Ed who said most of the story, even though Al piped in occasionally in order to provide that extra bit of information that happened to escape Ed's memory. It took them longer than expected, but by the time they were done, Izumi had come to know everything – including the companion that was now helping the boys on their quest.

She had also grown very quiet, taking in everything that her apprentices told her without so much as twitching an eyebrow. She didn't even say anything long after the brothers were done; she just closed her eyes as though trying to process everything in her mind. Neither Ed nor Al knew what to make of this reaction, but they both knew that it was to their best interest not to pry for any response.

It was a lesson that they had learned the hard way long ago.

After ten minutes of silence, the boys' patience finally paid off.

"So… The homunculi tried to force you to make the philosopher's stone?" Izumi asked with her gaze now locked on the Elrics.

Ed and Al nodded.

"And when you refused, they threatened you with the life of that other friend of yours?"

The boys nodded once more.

Izumi rested her back against the chair, her expression clearly troubled. "I see. So you think they might still be after you - or even your escort, if what you say about him is true."

"Yeah," Al replied. "They want to use any good alchemists they can get their hands on."

"But that also proves you were wrong to suspect the child," Izumi continued on, facing Ed. "If anything, they might use him too if they find out about him and his ability."

"I know: if he weren't human, then logically he wouldn't be able to perform alchemy," Ed said. "Still, there's something about that kid that worries me. If he can use alchemy without even clapping, much like Beregond, it must be because he was… at the gate…" As realisation hit Ed, his voice died in his throat and the words trailed off. He thought he heard Al calling him and asking him what was wrong, but Ed didn't pay attention to him anymore. He had gotten lost in his memories and finally reached the answer to the question that had been plaguing him ever since he saw the boy.

"Teacher! I remembered!" he exclaimed at once. He was so excited that he immediately stood up, almost toppling the chair out of its place.

"Remember what?" Izumi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I remembered where I saw that boy before!" Ed explained. "I saw him back at the gate! He was among the shadows that guard it!"

Izumi widened her eyes, for the first time actually looking shocked. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm positive!" Ed said. However, he was so focused on trying Izumi to believe him that he didn't notice Al's very peculiar body posture. For the suit of armour was sitting quite rigidly now, his gauntlets clenched into fists and his eyes dimmed in thought.

After all, little did Ed know that a terrible suspicion had entered his little brother's mind.

"So… are you suggesting that the boy is from your friend's world too?" Izumi asked, just as oblivious to Al's thoughts.

Ed opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped midway. He understood that what he was saying was far-fetched.

After all, such accidents don't happen twice.

"I don't know," he said in the end, shaking slightly his head. "I can only tell you what I saw."

It seemed that it was an answer that satisfied Izumi for now, because she didn't argue any further. Still, Ed didn't like the look on her face when she suddenly stood up and headed for the door.

"Teacher?"

"There's something I want to confirm," she replied, though she didn't turn around to look at him. "Stay here till I get back."

"But Teacher…" Al started.

Izumi just walked out, giving the boys one last warning.

"Don't upset the boy."

All the boys could do was stare at the closed door, unsure what to make of that reaction. They looked at Sig's direction, hoping that he would be able to give them some kind of answer.

He didn't. He simply walked out of the door also, a very curious – even worried, from what the boys could see – look on his face.

øøøø

When Sig found Izumi, she was in their bedroom with her back to him. She didn't seem to acknowledge his presence as she picked up a bottle and unscrewed its lid.

"Izumi."

She didn't seem surprised to hear him from so close. And it seemed that she was perfectly aware what he was about to say to her, because she didn't allow him to continue.

"Please make sure that those two don't make any trouble. I'll return soon."

"You are going there… aren't you?"

She only took a pill out of the bottle and swallowed it before putting the lid back on. Still, her silence proved incriminating enough.

"Izumi…"

"Just let me go."

At that tone, Sig knew that there was no way he could dissuade his wife from what she was about to do. So he simply stepped aside when she walked out the door, hardly looking at him in the eyes.

øøøø

The squeal of laughter filled the Hughes' residence that morning and for a good reason, too. Sarah and Elysia had spent all morning playing with Elysia's dolls and stuffed puppets, and the game ended with quite the bang when the woman started tickling Elysia. Gracia stepped outside the kitchen for a while and watched her friend and daughter with a small smile.

It was Sarah who first noticed Gracia. She sobered a bit and looked at her direction curiously.

"Do you want any help in the kitchen?"

"No, everything is taken care of," Gracia assured her friend. "But I'm afraid I'll have to take Elysia now so she can have her bath."

Elysia's expression at this showed that she didn't really like that idea at all. "Can I stay and play with Aunt Sarah five more minutes?" she asked, remembering to be polite.

However, Gracia shook her head. "You're done playing for now, young lady. It's time to get clean for lunch."

Elysia couldn't argue with that, so she just nodded and walked up to her mother to be picked up. Smiling, Gracia decided to indulge Elysia and wrapped her arms around the little girl.

"Sarah dear… will you put the toys back in their place, please?" she asked, looking in Sarah's direction.

"You don't have to ask," Sarah replied with a smile of her own. And so, as soon as Gracia walked away with Elysia toward the bathroom, Sarah started folding the stuffed puppets and placing them carefully in the box where Elysia kept her toys. She was almost done when, suddenly, the phone rang.

Gracia hadn't finished with Elysia's bath yet though; Sarah could still hear water splashing in the inner room. That meant that Sarah herself would have to answer it instead.

But who could be calling at this time of day? Neither she nor Gracia were expecting any phone-calls.

Although…

At the second ring, Sarah had placed the last toy in the box and secured everything with a small lock. At the third, she was already hurrying in the phone's direction, calling out to Gracia that she would get that. And when the phone was about to go off for a fourth time, Sarah picked up the receiver and said: "Hello?"

"Sarah?"

She smiled, for she understood immediately who it was. "Yes," she answered. "It's been a while."

A very loud sound from a motor engine passing by almost made her jump. She looked at the receiver in a suspicious manner for a brief moment and then placed it back in her ear. "Where are you?"

"Sorry about that," Havoc said, a goofy grin evident even in his voice. "Mustang said that I shouldn't use the military lines in case they're tapped, so I used my lunch break as a pretext to go outside of Headquarters and call you. I'm in a phone booth close to a motorway."

"Good thinking, though _I_ might have trouble hearing you now," she said with a tease.

"I'll tap it in Morse code for you," Havoc said, playing along.

She clicked her tongue. "I don't know it."

"How about smoke signals then?"

Sarah couldn't help it; she giggled.

"I love it when you laugh, did you know that?"

Though Havoc spoke softly this time, Sarah managed to pick up every single word loud and clear. She blushed. "Stop it, you didn't call me for that," she said, not sounding as chiding as she would have liked; because she loved it when he made her laugh.

"Right, sorry," Havoc answered, finally sobering. "Boss said that you might have to go to the archives' room to find some things for him. Will you be able to go today?"

"Of course," Sarah said. "Just tell me what I will be looking for."

"Anything concerning Colonel Juliette Douglas."

Sarah wasn't really surprised at that request. Roy had already told her of his suspicions about the Führer's secretary, and now it was time to find evidence to back it up. Because of that, she was quite calm when she answered:

"I'll see what I can do."

øøøø

Once the lunch break was over, Havoc slowly took the way back to the office, leaving behind a light trail of smoke because of the cigarette that was hanging on his lips. A couple of privates instantly stood at attention and saluted when he passed them by, but he simply told them in a bored manner: "As you were." After all, he had other things in his mind at present to pay attention to such typicality.

What really startled him was the reaction of his friends when he opened the door of the office. Riza had looked up in mild concern; Breda and Falman had stood up, their tension written all over their features; whereas Fuery had looked downright anxious.

"Lieutenant Havoc," the woman said simply, her expression softening somewhat. She sat down again, an action that was soon followed by the others as well.

Havoc raised an eyebrow and looked at each and everyone curiously. "What's going on? Is there a surprise inspection going on?"

"That would have been a lot less nerve-wracking, I can tell you that," Fuery said ruefully.

"Then what…?" But Havoc didn't continue, for it was then that he noticed someone very important was missing.

"Where's the Colonel?" he asked.

"With Douglas," Breda said. "She sent word that she wanted to see him."

Havoc frowned. "That's odd."

"You can say that again," Falman replied.

"So how long has he been gone?"

"Twenty minutes," Riza answered.

If Havoc ever meant to comment on that, he never got the chance, because it was then that the door opened again and Roy walked in. Everyone was shocked to see the Colonel's grim expression and they had no idea what to make of it.

"Sir?" Fuery finally asked in hesitation.

Roy ignored the question that was left unuttered for the present and went to sit behind his desk instead.

"Colonel?"

Roy only placed his hands on the desk and knitted his fingers.

"Boss?"

This time Roy graced his subordinates with a small, sober look before he hid his face behind the knitted fingers… and started laughing so hard that it took him about five minutes before he managed to explain to the others what was it Douglas had asked of him.

Even Riza couldn't help but smile a bit at the irony of the situation. "An alchemist is suspected to be with that fearsome Ishbalan terrorist group we're after, huh?"

"He must be very elusive," Falman said in a serious tone, yet still grinning.

"Why, I think he's right under our very noses," Breda said, acting as though thinking hard at the prospect of such a grievous situation.

"Indeed," Roy said with a smile. "Everything's off the record, of course."

"Of course," all the soldiers said at once, saluting.

"Good. Now that that has been taken care of… Have you made the phone-call?" Roy asked Havoc.

"Yes, Sir," Havoc replied. "Although I'm not sure what it is you're hoping to find."

"I will know once Mrs. Abbot checks those files."

øøøø

After Sarah hung up, she decided to see to her errand at once. Claiming that she was called from the library for an important file organization problem, she told Gracia that she would have to leave and she should not worry about Alice, because Sarah herself would pick her from school once the matter that came up was finally settled. Gracia didn't really understand why Sarah was so needed over something that didn't seem all that challenging for any other librarian to handle, but Sarah threw it all into bureaucracy and its insufficient way of handling things.

Gracia didn't object this time. And so, almost an hour later, Sarah was walking through the entrance of the military Headquarters and heading where the archives' room was.

_Hmm…_ _one young private appointed as the curator, _Sarah thought. _Big mistake._

"Excuse me?" she uttered.

The young private lifted his gaze from the list he was holding and looked at Sarah. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I've come from the State Library. I was asked to check on the name registries and certificates in this room. We have to see which files and names have gone missing after that fire that almost destroyed the library."

The private blinked.

"Is there something wrong?" Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"No, um…" the young private stopped momentarily, deciding to be more tactful about matters. "It's just that I wasn't informed about a thing like this."

Sarah acted surprised at this. "Not informed?" she said. "It wasn't you that I spoke to on the phone then?"

The young private shook his head. "You must mean sergeant-major Powel. I'm sorry, but he left three hours ago."

"Well, I don't know who it was, but I was assured that I could pass by anytime I wished so I could work. That's why I got this in the first place." And with that, Sarah held up her special permission so that the private could see it. "Now will you please let me in? I have a little girl to pick up from school afterwards."

The private immediately nodded. "Yes, of course! Go right in! I'm sorry for inconveniencing you."

She murmured her thanks and walked inside the archives' room without looking back at him. Once she was sure that there wasn't anyone around watching her, she made a bee-line for the files of the enlisted officers.

It was to her great dismay, however, when she discovered that there were no files with the name Juliette Douglas on them. It was as though the woman never existed – which was nothing further from the truth.

_So why?_

Sarah could only suspect one reason, especially after Colonel Mustang convinced her about Douglas's dubious nature.

Whatever was in those files, it certainly wasn't in favour of the Führer's secretary.

øøøø

Ed glared at the locked door of the bedroom he and Al shared. He didn't want to be there at all, but could he really argue with the Teacher's husband? And besides, it wasn't that that annoyed Ed the most; it was the fact that he even had a guard outside the door as though this place was some form of prison!

"Damn it, Mason! Will you let me out already?" he cried, banging once at the door.

"Sorry," Mason's voice sounded through the door. "Boss said I shouldn't let you out and, let's face it, I'd rather I complied with _his_ orders."

Ed huffed in frustration.

"Fine. Can you at least tell me where Teacher went?"

"I'm not sure," Mason said, his voice sounding as though thinking about it. "She asked me to prepare a boat for her, so my guess is she has gone to the island again."

_The island?_ Ed was now more curious than never, because he still remembered her words only too clearly – she wanted to confirm something.

But what could there be on the island that needed confirming?

It was the sound of chalk sliding on the floor that finally cut Ed off from his musings. Feeling a bit surprised, Ed turned around and noticed why Al had been so quiet in the last five minutes: he was drawing a transmutation circle.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

Al immediately placed a finger close to the crack that served the suit of armour as mouth in order to shush his brother. "With any luck, Winry is still below us."

"So?"

Al just activated the circle. A few seconds later, Ed understood what his brother had done. He had simply calculated where exactly the light in the room below was, so he could then transmute it to a crude version of a telephone.

"Winry?" Al said close to the speaker. "Winry, are you there?"

"Yes, I am," Winry's voice sounded clearly through the transmuted gadget. "But what's with the phone on the ceiling?"

"Basically, we can't get out of the room," Al replied. "However, there was something that I wanted to ask you."

"Well, I hope it's important. Your transmutation has scared the boy and now he's hiding behind me," Winry said, hardly concealing her scolding tone. "Just what did you guys do to him?"

"We're sorry about that one," Al said apologetically. "But it _is_ important, trust me."

There was a small pause.

"Okay then, go ahead."

"While the boy was sleeping, did you notice his right arm?" Al asked.

Ed now knelt beside Al. He didn't know why Al would ask such a question, but he knew this: if his brother asked it, it meant that hehad to listen to the answer as well.

"Well, yeah…" Winry said. "You know, it's an odd coincidence. He has a scar from a bite right where Ed used to have one too."

Ed felt like his heart suddenly missed a beat. And he could only look at Al in a horrified manner when his little brother ended the communication with a hushed "Thanks."

"Al…" His voice betrayed him, so he tried again. "What… what was that about?"

Al's eyes dimmed as he looked at Ed in what could only be described a sad manner. "Brother… you said you saw the boy at the gate. That's where our bodies are too, remember?"

"Don't say it!" Ed cried at once. He already suspected where Al was getting at, but he didn't want to believe it; he couldn't. "You have it wrong, okay? They're not the same limbs!"

"How many people can get animal bites in the same place, Brother?" Al reasoned calmly. "And how many people have mismatched arms and legs without said limbs being artificial?"

"Drop it, Al!" Ed warned. "Those limbs were taken to the Gate in exchange for Mum and you! It was equivalent exchange!"

"Nevertheless, we already figured there _is _a way for us to get them back. And Beregond got his own body back when he was brought here."

"_His _body!" Ed all but cried. "So why would _this_ boy have _my_-?" He never finished his sentence, because a sound that resembled awfully much a snarl tore out of his chest and he clapped.

"Brother, no!" Al immediately wrapped his arms around Ed's body to prevent him from performing any alchemy. He didn't know what Ed could do in his anger, but he didn't care to find out either.

"Let go, Alphonse!" Ed growled, struggling to get away.

"No!"

"I said: let me go!"

"Not when you're like this!"

"I need to know, damn it!"

"And you will!" Al said as soothingly as he could under the circumstances, hoping that it was enough to appease his brother. "We _both _will."

Ed breathed hard, attempting to free himself from Al's vice-grip one last time before finally accepting his defeat. Al was right, they _would_ find out. But not when he was blinded by fury.

On the other hand… if that boy really had his limbs…

Ed trembled even at the thought of that possibility.

øøøø

The moment Izumi arrived at the island, she immediately headed to the centre of it. She knew that there was a strange formation of stone pillars placed there long ago by people driven by sacred religions and beliefs, and it was that place she wanted to see.

It was also a place that she knew quite well, because she had been there before.

She scrutinised her surroundings thoughtfully, finally deciding that there wasn't anything out of the ordinary there; not at first glance anyway.

But then she let her gaze drift to the ground. And her experienced eye caught sight of the thin trail on the ground that was still visible – if only barely.

It was the trail of something crawling away from the centre of the formation.

"No…"

Her shock didn't last long, because a new series of violent spasms racked her body, forcing her to cough out blood. She tried to control herself, but it wasn't possible; and soon the ground was covered in red. Finally, weakened and betrayed by the very body she had strived to make strong, she fell into a swoon and lost consciousness.


	25. A Teacher's Mistakes

When the first train from the neighbouring city arrived in Dublith, no one paid attention to a middle-aged, moustached man, who was dressed as though he was having a vacation trip. On the other hand, every passer-by noticed the three soldiers that were accompanying said middle-aged man, and they could only stare at them in wonder. Then again, no one imagined that that moustached man was no other than King Bradley, the Führer of Amestris, officially travelling with the intention of inspecting every military base in the south area of the country.

"So this is the city of Dublith," Bradley commented, scrutinising the buildings that surrounded the train station. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"With all due respect, Sir, why did we get off the train?" Armstrong asked, looking around as well. "There are no military bases for you to inspect here."

"I'm well aware of it, Major," Bradley answered, a broad smile on his features as he picked up his luggage and started walking. "But it has come to my attention that the Elric Brothers are here and I want to speak to them about Fullmetal's future… purposes."

Armstrong quirked an eyebrow and looked at his superior. "You mean concerning the events in Liore, Sir?"

"Quite right," Bradley said. "There's a war brewing, Major, and we'll need every enlisted man we can get in order to win."

Armstrong didn't say anything this time. Bradley, however, noticed the major's frowning expression.

"You may speak freely, if you have any objections to my decision."

"Thank you, Sir," Armstrong said with a courteous nod. "In all honesty, I have several reservations concerning Edward Elric's involvement in the matters of Liore because of his young age. He might not have the physical and mental strength required from soldiers at times like these."

"If _Major _Edward 'Fullmetal' Elric had the physical and mental strength to pass a qualification exam to become the youngest State Alchemist within the military ranks, he can handle the duties of a soldier. Or do you suppose we should start making exceptions, Major Armstrong?" It was Lieutenant Colonel Archer who said that, and his expression revealed nothing but cold apathy as he spoke those words.

"You got your answer, Major," Bradley said. He stopped on his tracks and turned to face Armstrong and Archer. "Now that that matter has been cleared up, you had better go find young Elric and bring him to this hotel." Bradley pointed at a small building on his left. "He most likely stays with his teacher, a certain Izumi Curtis; so you might as well start your search from there."

"Understood!" Armstrong and Archer said at once. After saluting respectfully, they went to see to their errand, while the young female private who had been silent throughout the conversation, Private Cecilia Howard, chuckled cruelly.

"Dublith, huh? Now that's what I call ironic," she said.

"Do you think she knows of their presence?" Bradley asked thoughtfully.

'Howard' shook her head. "If she did, she would have sent word to us. Well, it's time somebody informed her. May I take your leave, _Führer?_" she said, hardly concealing her sarcasm as she addressed Bradley.

"Of course," Bradley answered. "I'll wait for our new orders at the hotel."

"Good." With that, Envy changed into a small bird and flew away to give his report to their master.

øøøø

Ed and Al were still in their bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor, so deeply lost in thought that they almost jumped when the door suddenly burst open. And, to their shock, Mason hurried inside in a state of panic, with Winry close behind him.

"What's wrong?" Ed asked, not liking this at all.

"We need to hurry," Mason said. "Izumi is in the hospital."

The brothers immediately sprang to their feet.

"Is it because of… her condition?" Al dared to ask.

"Yes, it is," Mason answered at once. "Now come on, Boss is already there."

Ed and Al didn't need to be told twice. At the next moment, they hurried down the stairs and outside the butcher shop.

øøøø

That afternoon, Roy was alone with Maes in the make-shift recovery room Dr. Knox's house provided – but not alone. Dr. Knox was there too, checking on Maes's vital signs to make sure that the injured man was healing without much problem; while Sarah Abbot was seated close to Roy, telling him her own piece of news.

Roy didn't like what he heard at all.

"So you didn't find anything?"

Sarah shook her head. "Nothing at all."

Roy sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. "That certainly proves that our good Miss Douglas wants to hide something. But we also need some tangible proof." He stood up and started pacing the room, softly murmuring to himself as he tried to think of a solution… only to freeze in place when realisation hit him.

"A woman who's dead…" He faced Dr. Knox's direction, who was regarding him curiously. "Knox, all the death certificates are safely stored in the morgue, isn't that right?"

"Yes," Knox said, nodding hesitantly. "What do you want to find out?"

"See if you can find a death certificate with the name Juliette Douglas on it. I've got this feeling that the Führer's secretary isn't who she claims to be."

Knox sighed in understanding. "A case of stealing one's identity, I see. That wouldn't be the first time," he said grimly. "Nevertheless, I'll look into it."

"You need more."

Roy, Knox and Sarah immediately tensed at that weak voice, for it was Maes's.

"What do you mean?" Roy asked, facing his friend.

"More proof," Maes whispered. Though his gaze was now locked on his friend, he kept blinking to stay in focus. "Ask Scieszka. She can give it to you."

Roy shook his head though. "It's too risky; they could be watching her. Why do you think I didn't go to her in the first place?"

"The military's in danger, Roy. It's being used to create the philosopher's stone. You know this," Maes said. "You have to risk it, or it will probably be too late."

"I'm afraid he has a point, Mustang," Knox said. "Do you want to have another Ishbal in your conscience?"

Roy bit his lip and bowed his head. He knew both men had a point; but Roy had worked hard to create the image of an obedient officer to avoid suspicion. He couldn't just destroy that image and not pay the consequences for it.

"Colonel?"

Roy turned to Sarah and looked at her curiously, for her eyes seemed alight with a determination Roy had seen on very few people in his life.

"_I'll_ go."

All Roy could say to that was: "All right."

øøøø

Winry, Mason and the Elric Brothers arrived at the hospital in less than a half hour, but they didn't get permission to see Izumi. The doctor explained that she was too weak and she needed as much sleep as possible, which meant only one person should stay with her, her husband. Ed tried to object, saying that they were all aware of her condition; that they had been aware of it for the last six years and so they knew what they were dealing with. And he tried not to notice the dumbfounded look Winry gave him at those words.

The doctor was adamant, though. He declared that, if Ed and his friends were _really_ aware of their teacher's condition, they would understand that Mrs. Curtis needed all the rest she could get.

Ed and Al bowed their head at that. "We're sorry, Sir," the younger brother said.

"Just a minute!" Winry said, finally finding the chance to speak. "Your teacher has been sick for _that_ long?"

"Yes," Al answered, nodding weakly. "It's just that she's so strong that we sometimes forget."

"But what kind of sickness is it? Maybe a hospital in Central can cure her," Winry said.

"Unfortunately, it can't be done," the doctor said with a shake of his head.

"Why not?" the girl insisted. "No offence, but she'll get better treatment there."

It was Mason who answered for the doctor this time, and his tone was sad and full of regret. "Her condition is incurable. She's missing a lot of organs."

Winry's eyes widened in shock. "Missing? How is that possible?" she asked.

Ed, however, understood perfectly well. "It _is _possible…" he whispered, his flesh hand rubbing his automail one in an uncomfortable manner.

The doctor shrugged. "Indeed, but this is the first time that I saw anything like it. It looks as though somebody cut the missing organs out of her body, while the remaining ones intertwined to make up for the loss."

"It's still not enough though," Mason completed. "That's why she keeps coughing up blood."

Winry lowered her gaze as she realised how things stood. Al, on the other hand, turned to Ed, his red eyes flickering. "Brother, that means Teacher tried… what _we _tried."

"Yeah, everything makes sense now," Ed replied grimly. "What I don't understand is," and at that he turned to Mason, "why didn't Mr. Curtis try to stop her?"

"Because I didn't know anything."

Everyone turned at hearing Sig from so close. Sure enough, the burly man had exited the room where Izumi was and he was now approaching them, a rueful expression on his usually austere features.

"She got sick while carrying our child," he explained further on. "Though she tried hard, she couldn't give birth to it; and the doctors said she wouldn't be able to have any other children." He sighed. "It wasn't her fault, but she apologised a lot of times throughout that night."

"A baby?" Winry mused. At the next instant, she bit her lower lip, because she remembered her carefree question about children. "I see."

"Yes," Sig said. "I was foolish enough not to notice her sadness; how strongly she took the matter in her heart. So hard that she even thought of human transmutation."

Al gasped. "She tried to revive the baby?"

Sig nodded. "She did it all by herself. I don't know what she saw when she did it. But when she came back, she was covered in blood and her chest and abdomen were all but torn apart."

And that's where Sig finished his tale. Silence reigned in the room for many long moments, and no one seemed comfortable enough to break in.

That is, until Ed asked one question:

"When did all this happen?"

"About ten years ago."

"Right." Suddenly, Ed turned on his heel and grabbed Al by one of his metal gauntlets. "Come on, Al."

"Where are you going?" Winry exclaimed.

"Back to the shop," Ed answered.

If Winry ever intended to say anything else, she never got the chance. Ed and Al were outside the hospital in seconds, sprinting towards the shop.

"What's in your mind, Brother?" Al asked, unsure what to think of Ed's odd behaviour.

"That there's no such thing as too many coincidences," Ed answered, panting slightly as he still ran at top speed.

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, Al! You were the one that started figuring it out! That boy has my limbs; I remembered seeing him in the gate; and his age would match Izumi's kid's if he were alive now."

To say Al was shocked, it would have been an understatement.

"You mean… The kid is her son? Teacher did it?"

But Ed kept his gaze focused on the road. "We'll find out as soon as I talk to him."

It was then that another voice sounded on their left.

"Mister, would you please give me some money?"

Ed looked at the beggar from the corner of his eye. The man was wretchedly-clothed, covering his dirty face with a tattered hood; his eyes were large; and his nails where long, almost claw-like.

Even so, Ed had no time for charity. "Go get a job!" he said indignantly, and he continued running.

The beggar proved quite persistent though. In fact, he started running after the boys.

"Come on, aren't you a bit harsh?" he asked in a pitiable tone. "What about you, armoured man? You must have something you could give a poor soul like me."

"Sorry! All I have on me is a small box with a screwdriver in it!" Al replied.

"Screwdriver?" Ed wondered, looking at his brother quizzically.

"Long story," the suit of armour said, his tone indicating that he was actually blushing.

"A State Alchemist with no money on him? I find that hard to believe," the beggar insisted.

Ed huffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now go away already!"

"Don't act dumb! You're famous around here," the beggar said with a grin. "You transmuted your brother's soul, right?"

Ed finally stopped on his tracks and turned to face the beggar. The ragged-clothed man chuckled, seeing that he got the reaction he wanted from the boy.

"I'm right," he declared smugly.

"Annoying, more likely," Ed said. His tone was low, but the menacing quality in it was quite audible.

"Still, that armour is empty, isn't it?"

That was what ultimately made Ed snap. In the next moment, he had kicked the insolent beggar right in the face and sent him flying into a couple of bins nearby. He didn't even heed the loud banging noises the man's rough landing caused. All he did was turn around once more and say: "Let's go, Al."

"Hey, you broke my nose!" the beggar exclaimed, his voice sounding quite nasal now. After wiping the blood that flowed down his face, he pointed an accusing finger at Ed. "Listen, you! Didn't your mother tell you not to-"

He never completed his sentence, because he was rudely interrupted when Ed decided to shut him up by throwing one of the large bins on his face. Such was the young alchemist's force that the beggar was sent flying again.

For all his injuries, the beggar didn't give up.

"I see," he commented with a chuckle. He stood up and smirked as though he had discovered something very important. "If you're getting so worked up over it, it means you don't want to admit your brother is a freak!"

Now that was too much, even for Al's gentle heart.

"Who are you calling a freak?" the suit of armour demanded indignantly and grabbed the beggar from the scruff of his neck.

The beggar swallowed hard. "Hey, now… can't you take a joke?"

Before Al had the chance to say his opinion about that particular joke though, the beggar suddenly revealed from underneath his clothes a large tail which he used to swipe Al's head off. Taken by surprise, Al let go of the beggar and tried to locate his head.

The fact that the beggar started laughing didn't help matters much.

"So it really _is_ empty! Tucker was right!"

"Tucker?" Al exclaimed, flabbergasted to hear the familiar name after all this time.

"It's time for _your _head to roll!" Ed cried, now quite beside himself with fury.

The beggar didn't stick around to get beaten, of course. He simply ran off, all the while taunting Ed.

"Don't get upset, it's not like I hurt your brother or anything!"

"You won't get away that easily!" Ed said. True to his word, he clapped his hands and used his alchemy to transmute a wall to stop the beggar's escape. It seemed that the hunt was over before it even started; but the beggar only laughed.

"Your powers are uncanny! Then again… I'm uncanny too!" And with that, he quickly climbed the wall with the ease and agility of a monkey. In a matter of seconds, he jumped on the other side of the wall.

Ed could only stare in shock as he watched the creature disappear out of sight.

"What the hell was that thing?" he murmured in bewilderment.

"And what is Tucker doing with him?" Al wondered. He had found his head once again and placed it back between his shoulders to look at his brother's direction.

"_That_ was a chimera; probably one of those that escaped from Lab 5 along with Tucker… or, should I say, the Sewing-life Alchemist?"

At the sound of yet _another_ unfamiliar voice close to them, the boys turned around and set themselves in defensive position. They didn't know the pale, apathetic-looking soldier that was now standing behind them. But they certainly knew the great bulk of a soldier that was beside him.

"Save your energy, young Elric. We're on your side," Armstrong said softly.

"Major! It's been a while!" Al exclaimed in surprise.

"Indeed," Armstrong replied. He motioned his hand to the other soldier's direction. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer. He's in charge of the military court."

"Oh, that's the same position as Lieutenant Colonel Hughes'," Al noted.

Armstrong flinched, but neither of the brothers noticed it.

"And I see you're already aware of the Lab 5 incident," Ed completed, looking warily at Archer.

The lieutenant colonel didn't seem fazed in the least. "After certain… incidents… the Führer deemed that I was worthy of his trust, so he has disclosed everything that has been happening this last year," he said. "I suggest you show me the same trust, Major Elric."

Ed wasn't so sure about _that_ suggestion, but he had to admit that there was nothing he could say to that either.

"All right," he said, perhaps a bit more grudgingly than he had intended, "So why are you here?"

"You like getting straight to business," Archer noted. "Very well, I won't beat about the bush. The Führer is here too and he wishes to see you. Now."

Ed frowned, not expecting that kind of news. "What is it about?"

"It's not my business to tell you; you'll find out soon enough," Archer replied. He regarded Ed almost contemptuously and smirked. "Unless, of course, you're planning on defying orders. Colonel Mustang let you pick up some nasty habits, after all."

Ed clenched his jaw. Normally, he wouldn't mind if someone practically insulted his superior officer like that - he had done so himself many times before in the past. But the more he talked with Archer, the more he felt that this man was nothing like the Colonel. True, Mustang _was_ manipulative, but Ed had come to realise that he was manipulative in a mischievous, teasing way – Mustang would never _really_ harm anyone. Archer, on the other hand… he seemed ready to step on dead bodies to get what he wanted.

"Fine," he finally said with a sigh. He turned to his brother. "Al, will you check out matters for me?"

Al caught on. "I will. Don't worry."

"Thanks." With that, Ed looked at Archer and Armstrong proudly. "I'm ready to go."

øøøø

Dublith wasn't a big city. Nevertheless, it still had its fill of people who were ready to act against the law for their own personal gain. Such people dwelled in one particular area of Dublith, and it was exactly to that place the beggar headed as soon as he was done spying on the Elric brothers. It didn't take him long to reach a decrepit, filthy-looking bar with the name _The Devil's Nest _written on a signpost just above its entrance, or give his report to his boss; a tall man, whose spiky coal black hair and sunglasses contrasted with his pale face.

"You did good work, Biddo," the man said. "It looks like the Elric Brothers were exactly where our good Mr. Tucker told us." He turned around to see a huge form, which was so heavily clothed that it was difficult to make out either his face or his body. "It would be a pity if you had lied to me."

Tucker flinched. "I would never lie to you, Greed," he said in his usual hushed whisper. "And I assure you they will be useful to you."

Greed made a small humming noise as he got immersed in thought. "You say that both of them will be useful but… I really need only one of them." He turned to three other chimeras that were nearby: a bull of a man, a shorter one who kept sniffing the air like some sort of dog, and a woman with thin, albeit powerful limbs.

"Loa, Dorochet, Martel… you know what to do," Greed said to them, waving a hand dismissively; a hand with the tattoo of an ouroboros on it. "If he resists, bring him here by force. But remember," and at that, he raised a warning finger, "he's a big guest. _Don't_ kill him, no matter what."

The three chimeras didn't say anything. They just bowed and walked out.

Still, there _was _someone who was displeased with his boss's decision.

"You should have let me go with them," another man said from his comfortable spot by the bar, his yellow eyes now locked on the homunculus. "I know this territory like the back of my hand."

"Relax, Kimblee; you will get your chance soon enough," Greed answered, taking a big swing out of the whiskey in front of him. "However, know this: the others have already vocalised their distrust in you, since you are a former State Alchemist and all. I'm only willing to put that aside as long as I think you can offer me good service." He removed his eyes so that he could look Kimblee straight in the eye. "But if you betray me, I will show you no mercy."

Kimblee smirked and placed his hands in his pockets in a shrugging manner. "Do whatever you like. I just want to create chaos once more."

In spite of his words, he still locked his eyes on a small bundle placed in the darkest corner of the room.


	26. Complications

It didn't take long for Ed, Archer and Armstrong to reach the hotel where the Führer said he would be. And when they walked inside, they saw that King Bradley was seated on one of the armchairs in the main hall, already waiting for them.

"Ah," Bradley said with a big smile on his face. "I see you didn't take long. Good work, gentlemen."

Armstrong and Archer didn't say anything. Ed however, raised an eyebrow full of curiosity. "I was told you wanted to see me, Sir," he said.

"Quite right, Major Elric," Bradley said with a nod. He turned to the other two soldiers and waved his hand, showing in this way that they were dismissed; whatever he meant to say to Ed, it was for the boy's ears alone.

Armstrong and Archer understood perfectly. Without saying a word, they saluted and remained where they were, whereas Ed and Bradley walked up to the room that the Führer had booked in the meantime.

"It's nice to see you well," Bradley commented once the door was closed. He took a seat in the centre of the room, regarding Ed through his good eye.

"Yeah… Thank you, Sir," Ed said, suddenly feeling quite nervous; he never liked it when the Führer was scrutinising him like that.

"I have to admit that I was surprised to hear that you were here," Bradley continued on. "Did you come to break into any labs in the South as well?"

"Uh… no," Ed answered, swallowing hard. He could handle being teased like that from Mustang, but now he had to bite his tongue in order not to retort rudely.

On the other hand, he couldn't exactly say that he was practically kidnapped, no matter how true it was. So, he decided to skip the details.

"My Teacher actually lives here."

"Oh?" Bradley certainly sounded intrigued. "Judging by her student, I have to guess she must be quite remarkable."

"You've got that part right, Sir," Ed said. _And terrifying too,_ he added mentally.

"It's a shame that she didn't sign on as a State Alchemist. She would have been quite the valuable asset."

Ed didn't say anything to that, because it was then that he recalled the time when Al had said something like that to their Teacher on their first meeting.

Her reply had been a fist landing on Al's head and an angry: "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A STATE ALCHEMIST?"

Ed winced at the memory.

Yes, she would be a valuable asset all right – if the army had a death wish.

"Your Excellency has more than enough men under his service, ready to obey every command," Ed said evasively.

"And yet the list grows thinner with each passing day," Bradley said.

Ed frowned, not expecting that kind of answer. "What do you mean, Sir?"

"Oh my," Bradley said, acting quite surprised. "I see you haven't heard the news then."

To say that Ed was now curious would have been an understatement. "What news?"

Bradley didn't answer at once though. He crossed his arms in discomfort, and he bowed his head in what seemed to be regret. "I'm afraid I'm in the most unpleasant position to inform you that your friend, former Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, is dead."

All Ed could do at first was stare at the Führer dumbly, thinking that his ears played tricks on him. "I-I'm sorry… what?"

Bradley spoke kindly now, as though trying to be as gentle about this as possible. "Maes Hughes is no more. He was killed on duty."

Ed didn't know what to say. What _was _he supposed to say?

"But… He was fine when I left. He even waved goodbye…"

"And a few hours later, he was murdered."

_Murdered? _

That was all that Ed could take standing. Feeling his limbs betraying him, he collapsed on an armchair nearby, his jaw slack. He tried to form words, but it proved a much more difficult task than he had expected. In the end, all he managed to utter was:

"What the hell?"

And then anger washed through him, which made him ask a different kind of question.

"_Why?_"

Bradley sighed. "We're not sure. However, considering the recent events, it probably has to do with the philosopher's stone."

Ed swallowed hard, understanding what Bradley was telling him.

Someone deemed Hughes was too deeply involved in the investigation considering the stone, so they silenced him.

Silenced him only because he was trying to help the boys.

"Damn it…" Ed rested his head against his automail hand and closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to control his emotions. "It's my fault."

"Major Elric…"

"It was because of me…" Ed continued, shaking his head. "I… _I _pulled him into this."

"You did nothing of the sort," Bradley said. "Brigadier General Hughes knew the danger and yet he decided to face it."

"But he had a family! And…a good friend," Ed froze, because it was then that the thought occurred to him. "Has Colonel Mustang been informed?" he asked, his eyes now wide-open.

Bradley nodded.

"Oh…" Ed lowered his gaze. "I see."

Bradley sighed and regarded Ed with as much of a softened expression as a hardened leader of the State was allowed to have. "I'm sorry. When I came here I didn't expect I would be the bearer of such grievous news."

"Then why did you come, Sir?" Ed asked. He now sounded quite tired.

"Because of what's been happening in the East, in the area of Liore."

"Liore?" Yes, Ed remembered the city quite well, even though he had visited it more than a year ago. He'd had to convince its citizens – among them a young girl – that the spiritual leader that they believed in with such passionate faith was nothing more than a con-man. "I thought everything was well there."

"No, mister Elric," Bradley said with a shake of his head. "Unfortunately, there has been a civil war after Father Cornello's disappearance, and for all the military's efforts, things only got from bad to worse. In fact, what started as a local conflict has quickly evolved into a full-scale war. You know, of course, what that means, young Elric."

Ed winced. Yes, he knew. He was hoping that he would have gotten out of the military _before_ something like that happened but, apparently, it wasn't meant to be.

"Am I to be transferred now?"

"No. But you will be soon, so you'd better start journeying back to Central; you will have to be with your unit when you'll be dispatched to war."

_So it has come down to this. _

Still, Ed needed some more time here in Dublith; there was the matter of the mysterious boy to be settled after all.

However, Ed knew that he couldn't say _that_ to the Führer.

"Sir, with all due respect, I can't leave yet," he said.

Bradley raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "Oh? Why is that?"

"My escort, Sergeant Beregond, has set off on an errand I appointed him. I already gave him instructions to meet me here."

The Führer frowned and contemplated matters carefully before answering. "Very well, you may wait for him. But after that, you will have to go straight to Central."

Ed stood up and bowed his head. "Understood, Sir. Thank you."

"Dismissed, Major," Bradley said with a nod.

Ed didn't have to be told twice. As soon as he saluted, he was out of the room and heading for the shop once more.

And yet it was with a heavy heart that he walked away.

øøøø

Dante stepped out into the porch in order to check out the plants that she was growing there. Judging that they had reached into quite the satisfactory growth, she plucked out several flowers and leaves and put them carefully on her apron. After all, they would serve perfectly as herbal teas.

She was still focused on that task when she got the odd feeling that she was being watched. She turned around, but all saw was a small bird perched on a tree nearby.

She nevertheless smirked knowingly. "My apprentice has gone shopping in town, if that's what you're concerned about."

Understanding what it was told, the little bird glided toward the porch and landed close to Dante. Moments later, light surrounded the animal and Envy appeared in its stead.

"I'll never know how you manage to see through my disguises," he declared, dusting himself.

"It's a mother thing, I suppose," Dante replied with a chuckle. However, her mirth died out almost at once. "For you to be here, it means you have news. Perhaps you want to tell me that you were discovered, too?"

Envy frowned. "No, I wanted to tell you the Elric Brothers are here." He regarded Dante curiously. "Why would you say that? Who was discovered?"

Dante didn't bother to answer; not in words anyway. She just pointed at the direction of the balcony door and inside the mansion.

There, amid the shadows, Envy could clearly see the forms of Lust and Gluttony. They had their heads bowed, as though awaiting some kind of severe punishment.

"Ah, I see." Envy said. "They blundered."

"We were caught off guard!" Lust exclaimed defensively. "This wouldn't have happened if you had bothered to warn us the sergeant had separated from the boys!"

"I _would_ have warned you if I knew about it," Envy said, shrugging.

"So who blundered now?" the female homunculus said venomously.

"Enough!" Dante said, raising a commanding hand. "We have other priorities. And though it was unplanned, Lust and Gluttony's meeting with the sergeant proved educational."

"How?" Envy asked, not really understanding. However, when Dante explained things to him, he raised an eyebrow.

"So… we were about to underestimate our pawns," he commented thoughtfully, before shaking his head. "Still, I think Lust and Gluttony should have killed him while they had the chance. He knows too much; he'll try to stop us."

"Not us, _Scar_. And if he manages… well, there are plenty of other candidates," Dante said. "It's someone else that we should be worried about presently. Greed's here."

"Really?" Envy said, intrigued. He snorted contemptuously. "Sealed in a prison for more than a century and he still hasn't learned his lesson. So what does he want?"

"I don't know," Dante said. "But I'll certainly not tolerate him on my doorstep."

øøøø

Al didn't remain idle when Ed was obliged to follow Lieutenant Colonel Archer and Major Armstrong. His brother had already told him what he was supposed to do anyway. And so, just as the sun was about to set, Alphonse found himself hurrying at the butcher shop.

To his surprise – and horror - he saw the boy sitting on the roof.

"What are you doing up there?" he called out.

The boy looked down at him apprehensively. "N-Nothing," he said weakly. "Everyone's gone and I didn't know _what _to do."

If Al could, he would have winced. Everyone got so concerned about Izumi that they forgot all about him.

"Look, I'm coming up. Will that be okay with you?"

The boy blinked a couple of times, certainly not expecting that kind of question. "Um… yeah… I guess."

And so, minutes later, Al was sitting on the roof right beside the boy, desperately trying to find a way to ask him what he had in mind. After all, it was a bit silly to say: _You know, that's funny, my brother used to have two limbs like yours. Did you by any chance get them from a big gate thingy where the dead linger? _

In the end, it was the boy that got him out of that embarrassing position.

"Why am I so different from you?"

Al stared at the boy. "What do you mean?"

The boy pursed his lips in an attempt to find the correct words. "Your voice sounds like mine, and yet you're huge and metallic."

"Oh," Al said. "This is not my real body. I lost that one a long time ago."

"And the one you call 'Brother'? He's metallic too."

"Yeah," Al replied softly. "He lost his arm and leg too."

The boy frowned, trying to comprehend what he was being told. "So where are they?"

Al felt like he wanted to disappear at that point. But the boy asked the same innocent - and so hurtful – question.

"Where are they?"

Al wasn't sure how much of it he could stand. And so he did the only thing he could do: he diverted the subject.

"Hey… I couldn't help but notice that scar of yours. Where did you get it?"

The boy was certainly confused. "I… don't remember." He swallowed hard. "Is that bad?"

Al tensed before he could help it. Nevertheless, he forced himself to sound quite calm when he said: "No. It's not bad."

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't confront the kid; not like this. The boy didn't remember anything that happened at the gate, very much like Alphonse didn't. That certainly didn't make the boy responsible for his actions.

Still, the question remained: how did his brother's limbs end up being the boy's? One theory that Al came up with was that the limbs were compatible age-wise, but somehow Al wasn't satisfied. He was sure that there was something more involved. The question now was: what?

Perhaps he and Ed could somehow make the boy remember. He didn't know how that was supposed to be done, but they would have to figure something out.

Then again… Ed warned him that the gate was a pretty scary place. That it was a blessing that one couldn't remember their confrontation with it.

So now what were they supposed to do?

It was then that he saw a familiar form approaching the shop. And when he noticed Ed's slumped shoulders and bowed head, he knew that Ed was coming with his own piece of news – _bad_ news.

What he didn't notice were three strange figures standing on the roof of another building several feet away from him and the boy, discussing amongst themselves whether they should attack now that their target was within eyesight.

"No," the huge man, Loa, finally said. "There are too many witnesses. We'll have to find another chance."

"But what are we going to say to Greed?" the smaller man asked.

The lithe woman by the name of Martel answered: "The truth. He might have a better idea in mind."

And with that, they were gone, using the shadows the setting sun provided them as cover.


	27. Visits

Sarah turned around the corner and checked her surroundings. It seemed to be the correct neighbourhood, even though she was far from her usual haunts. Deciding to verify things anyway, she opened her bag and took out a small agenda where she had written down an address.

_The street is correct… and the number should be…_

Yes, there it was; she could see it even from this distance. Placing the agenda back in her bag, she walked up to the last house down the road and knocked on the door.

"Scieszka! Are you in?"

There was a loud crash in response, something that made Sarah raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Scieszka?" She knocked again, and there was a second loud crash.

_Now that's odd,_ Sarah noted. She was about to knock again, but Scieszka's voice stopped her.

"Coming! Coming!"

Seconds later, the door opened and, to Sarah's surprise, Scieszka looked dishevelled, her glasses barely hanging from one ear. But, a brief glance behind the girl showed Sarah what had happened. Both knocks made several piles of book come tumbling down… onto anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby at the moment.

"My apologies," Sarah said with a wince.

Scieszka straightened her glasses with a small smile. "It's okay. I just didn't expect to see you here!"

"Yes, I should have called," Sarah said. "But, since I happened to be in the neighbourhood, I decided to drop in. Am I interrupting something?"

"No, you're not bothering me, really!" Scieszka assured Sarah at once. "Please, come in. I hope you don't mind the books in the way."

Sarah chuckled lightly. "I'm used to it." She stepped inside, careful not to step on any of the books that were on the floor, although that was easier said than done. Eventually, she managed to follow Scieszka to the kitchen, and the girl started preparing some coffee for the two of them.

"How's Gracia?" Scieszka asked while still occupied with her task.

"As well as she can be, under the circumstances," Sarah said truthfully. "You can come over and visit her some time. I'm sure she'd like that."

"I definitely will. I want to see Elysia, too."

Sarah regarded Scieszka thoughtfully. "And you? Did you find a new job yet?"

Scieszka shook her head. "Not everyone wants a bookworm to work for them," she said with a sigh. "But I won't give up trying."

"Good." Sarah nodded her thanks when Scieszka gave her a cup, but she didn't speak again for a while. "It's hard, isn't it? To try to stand on your feet again after such a violent change to everything you know?"

"Yes," Scieszka said in a soft tone. "But don't worry. I can make ends meet."

"I'm not talking financially."

"Oh."

"So," Sarah said, placing the coffee on the counter. She crossed her arms and looked at Scieszka with a very serious expression on her features, "How have you been coping?"

"I'm fine… really," Scieszka answered. "Well, in a way." She sighed and sipped some of her coffee. "He was a good man. It shouldn't have happened to him."

"There was nothing you could do, though," Sarah said.

Scieszka straightened her glasses and sighed. "I suppose you're right." It was then that her grip on the mug tightened. "That doesn't mean I can't do something _now_."

Sarah raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh?"

Scieszka nodded and leant closer to Sarah. "Can you keep a secret?"

_You mean if I can keep one _more_,___Sarah thought wryly. "What is it?"

Scieszka beckoned Sarah to sit on a chair nearby and then took a seat herself. She looked around her as though expecting someone to listen to their conversation and, after deciding that it was safe to answer, spoke up again.

"Have you noticed that everyone keeps saying that Mr. Hughes was killed in action, but no one seems willing to divulge into details considering his death?"

"Yes," Sarah said. "That is to be expected if the circumstances of death are unknown."

"Or secret," Scieszka said.

"Indeed?" Sarah locked her gaze on the girl. She suspected what Scieszka was about to tell her, yet she decided to listen to what she had to say. "Go on."

"Look," Scieszka said, trying to explain things the best way she could. "Mr. Hughes was conducting a research of his own a few days before he was killed; a research concerning Ishbal. That is hardly a coincidence."

"No, it isn't," Sarah replied quietly. Yes, the girl was telling her exactly what she had expected.

"That means I need to continue that investigation and so find out what Mr. Hughes came across. Maybe that will point out to his murderer."

"Who might become yours too, unless you're careful," Sarah said, keeping her voice calm. "All is not what it seems, Scieszka."

Scieszka tensed, looking at Sarah with eyes wide open. "W-What are you talking about?" In the next moment, she sat back, still staring at the woman incredulously. "You didn't just… drop in… did you?"

"No. Let's just say that there's someone else out there who wants to make sure justice is served," Sarah said cryptically.

And with that, she started explaining.

øøøø

That night had been long for the Elric Brothers. After they had made sure that the boy was sleeping and he wouldn't listen to their conversation, they told each other what they had found out. Al told Ed of his conversation with the boy and his thoughts after that, while Ed told of his encounter with the Führer. The armour's reaction to Maes Hughes's death had been almost identical to the teen alchemist's. He bowed his head in regret, fingers knitted together.

"It's our fault," he whispered.

"I know," Ed said, his tone just as soft.

There was silence for many long moments. The first light of day crept slowly into the bedroom the brothers shared, brightening everything within it, but neither Ed nor Al paid attention to that.

What they paid attention to was the sound of a door opening downstairs, followed closely by light footsteps that went up the stairs and came closer to the room.

The boys reacted at once. Ed covered himself in his blanket, while Al rested his back against the wall with his eyes dimmed. They barely managed to bring themselves to a relaxed enough state, pretending they were asleep, when the door opened.

There was a pause as the newcomer obviously checked on Ed and Al.

"I can't believe those guys." The brothers immediately recognised Winry's voice, and they could tell she wasn't exactly pleased. "All this rush to leave the hospital just to sleep."

She nevertheless came close to them. The boys clearly heard her sigh before she pulled up Ed's blanket to cover him slightly better. She then locked her gaze on Al with a sad look in her eyes, murmuring something that sounded awfully like: "I guess Mrs Izumi's condition must be hard for you." With a slight pat on Al's cheek, she walked out as quietly as possible and closed the door behind her.

Still, the boys waited for five more minutes before they deemed it was safe to continue with their conversation without being interrupted.

"Winry really wanted to see him again at first chance," Al said, once again sitting opposite from his brother. "How are we going to explain things to her?"

Edward shook his head. "I'm not sure, but we'll have to sooner or later. The Führer was specific about it: we have to join Mustang and the others back in Central."

"Which means that she'll find out the moment we step in Central anyway," Al completed with a sigh. "That will only make things worse."

"Yeah." Ed placed his chin on his flesh palm and looked outside the window. The sun had arisen, signifying the beginning of a new day. "At least, we have some time yet. We have to wait for Beregond."

"I guess," Al said. He looked at his brother curiously. "Do you think he found the Ishbalans?"

"I'm sure he did," Ed replied, a small smile forming on his lips. "I just hope things are easier on him than on us."

øøøø

Falman was waiting patiently in what used to be Hughes' office when Sarah walked in. He greeted her courteously and beckoned her inside, making sure that their meeting was the most natural thing in the world to anyone who happened to pass by at that point.

"Am I late?" Sarah asked.

"Not at all," Falman said with a small smile. "I have gathered the rest of Brigadier General Hughes' stuff for you."

"Good. Gracia doesn't need to deal with those right now." She pulled up her sleeves and picked up one of the two large boxes, whereas Falman picked the other one.

"I'll walk you home. These things are heavy," he offered.

"You're only too kind, Warrant Officer," Sarah said with a smile.

Soon enough, they both walked out. Nevertheless, neither of them uttered a word as they walked along the hallways, thus giving the impression that Sarah's visit was purely coincidental and had nothing to do with the conversation that followed as soon as Falman and Sarah got out of Headquarters – and out of hearing range.

"How did it go?" Falman asked.

"Smoothly," Sarah said. "She opened up quite quickly, and I've told her how things _really _stand – for the most part anyway."

"You mean… you didn't mention the colonel's involvement?"

The woman shook her head. "From what I gathered, she has some kind of resentment for his person at the present. If I mentioned his name, she would probably reach the wrong conclusions."

"Yeah, that's true," Falman said with a wince. "What about Hughes?"

"No. She's a really good person and... I'm afraid she would try to tell Gracia. Heaven knows there are times I want to do that myself."

"Nevertheless, she's still willing to help?" Falman asked.

"That's what she said," Sarah replied with a slight shrug of her shoulder. "She'll gather any evidence that points out the military's involvement in the search for the philosopher's stone, the Ishbal incident included."

"That's good news," Falman said. "I'll talk to the Colonel and let him know of things."

"When you do, tell him also that I've made arrangements concerning Maes's accommodations at my house," Sarah said.

"I will."

They didn't say anything else, because they had arrived at Gracia's house. All that was left in them was to exchange courteous goodbyes before parting their ways. And when Gracia asked Sarah why she didn't invite the warrant officer inside, Sarah only answered that Falman was still on duty.

øøøø

When Ed and Al went downstairs, there was no sight of Winry anywhere. One small peek in her room clearly showed that the girl was asleep, apparently too tired after spending all those hours at the hospital. When the brothers found out that Wrath was asleep also, they decided it was time to go back to the hospital. After all, they wanted to see how Izumi was doing.

However, there was another, more sinister reason that they wanted to go there.

If they couldn't get the answers they wanted from the boy himself, they would have to get them from her. No matter how cruel or insensitive that would be – or even suicidal, considering their teacher's temper.

It was with that thought that, a quarter of an hour later, Ed and Al entered the hospital. Mason and Mr. Curtis were still there, of course, but Mr. Curtis told his assistant that he had better go open the shop; he would meet him there soon afterwards.

"How is Teacher, Mr. Curtis?" Al asked, once Mason was gone.

"Getting stronger," the burly man answered. "She's awake if you want to talk to her. However… " and with that he raised a finger in warning, "be careful what you talk to her about."

Ed and Al flinched at those words. It was as if Mr. Curtis _knew _what the boys had in mind; that was more than just a little unnerving.

"We will," Ed answered weakly, more in an attempt to appease the man than anything else. And with that, Ed grabbed Al by his metal gauntlet and dragged him inside before Mr. Curtis piercing look bore down on him with a vengeance.

When Ed saw Izumi's _own _piercing look boring down on him, he almost wished he was outside.

"So… my foolish apprentices are finally here," she said, raising an eyebrow. "It took you long enough."

"We're sorry!" Ed and Al replied at once, standing in attention.

"If I were a little stronger, I would have shown you how sorry you should be," Izumi snapped.

She didn't speak again for some time, nor did she look at them; she simply kept her gaze locked on her hands in an almost contemptuous manner. However, the brothers noticed that another, _strange_ expression settled in her features; one that they couldn't exactly label, because they had never seen it before.

It was almost as if… she was tired.

"Sig told me that you know," her voice rang in the room, unusually soft.

It didn't take a great mind to guess what the woman was talking about. The brothers nodded slowly.

"Both the teacher and the apprentices," she said with a snort. "Pitiful."

"Teacher…" Al started. But the look she gave him made him stop.

"There are still things to be settled," she said. "And because of those things, I'm cutting you off."

Ed and Al gasped in shock, unable to believe that their teacher just said that.

She went on.

"I didn't teach you alchemy to have you end up in such bodies. I taught you so that perhaps you would avoid _my _mistake."

There was another pause before she voiced the next dreadful words.

"You're no longer my apprentices."

Al took a step forward. "B-but Teacher…!"

At the next moment, Ed raised his arm in a gesture for Alphonse to stop.

"Al… don't."

Al turned around and stared at his brother incredulously. But Ed didn't return the look. His head was bowed, his blond bangs hiding his eyes from the rest of the world.

"Brother…"

"Go home!" Izumi said, her tone impatient.

Ed lifted his head and, to Al's surprise, his eyes were alight with determination.

"You know, Teacher…" Ed said, "When _my _student became stronger than me, I released him; I thought there was no point in him to stay with me if I couldn't offer him anything else. He didn't leave. I didn't understand why back then, but now that I'm in the same position with him, I've come to realise one thing."

"And that is?" Izumi said darkly.

"That though our bond of teacher-apprentice was no more, there was nothing to hold him back and talk to me as an equal."

It was then that Al understood. And when his brother knelt with respect, he followed his example.

"Teacher," Ed continued on, "It's time I did the same. It's true that you brought us here by force. But I tell you now that neither Al nor I are leaving before we get some answers; answers that we need if we're to carry on our journey."

"AND I SAID GO HOME!"

The mug that Izumi threw in wrath barely missed Ed's head.

"We will _not _go home," Ed said, no longer afraid.

"THEN I'LL _BEAT_ YOU ALL THE WAY BACK HOME!"

"Beat us up!" Al answered. "We _aren't _going back!"

Izumi said nothing this time, though her angry glare was still locked on them. The brothers couldn't really tell what she saw in their eyes but, whatever it was, it finally made her relent. She closed her eyes and shook her head, muttering one word only.

"Idiots."

Though the boys smiled, seeing that they finally had their way, their mirth didn't last long. It was time for Ed to finally ask what had been in their minds since the previous night.

"Teacher… what were you trying to confirm on the Island?"

She didn't answer.

"Does it have to do with… what happened to you?" Al asked hesitantly.

"Do you really want to know?"

Though Izumi's voice was soft, the edge was still there. It was clear that this was difficult for her. Nevertheless, the boys nodded.

"Very well," Izumi said with a sigh. She rested her back on the headboard, tilting her head slightly backwards as memories swiftly caught up with her. "I used the baby itself for the human transmutation. I added some ingredients on it, placed it on the transmutation circle… and then I activated the circle. When I came to my senses, my body was soaking wet from the rain that was falling and weak, but that wasn't the worst part. I vomited blood the moment I pushed myself back on my knees, and I knew then the price I paid for returning the child back to the living.

"But I didn't care. Especially when I saw the bundle with which I had covered the child moving.

"But then the cloth slipped from its place, and I saw that what I created was… not human." If she noticed Ed and Al bowing their heads as they understood what their Teacher meant, she didn't show it. She simply carried on.

"In my state, I did the only thing I could do. I reactivated the circle. This time, I found myself before the gate." She finally locked her gaze on Ed. "Do you remember what you saw in there?"

"Yeah," Ed said thoughtfully. "I saw all that's alchemy. It felt as though the flow of the world all came inside me. The universal truth was there."

"Universal truth? It looked more like hell to me," Izumi said bitterly. "And that is where I put… it. It cried in terror as it was carried away inside the gate, making my heart break, but… I couldn't take it back. The Gate closed almost at once when it got its offering."

And that was where Izumi finished her tale. But the boys didn't speak at once. They pondered on what the woman told them for a while, they exchanged a glance of agreement; and then Ed finally broke the silence.

"So the thing you were trying to confirm was whether the boy we found is, in fact, your son."

"That boy's age and my son's would have matched, if my son had lived. And when you told me that you remembered seeing him at the gate, I knew I had to make sure," Izumi explained.

"Does this mean that it's really your son?" Al asked then. "Did you succeed?"

"I succeeded in creating something, if that's what you're saying," Izumi said in an enigmatic tone. She looked at the boys ruefully. "I have never told you how homunculi are created."

That was such an abrupt statement that Ed and Al could only look back at Izumi in confusion for a minute or two.

"Well, they're certainly artificial humans," Ed answered in the end. "So I figured they were created in a place like a laboratory or something; much like a chimera."

"And that is where you have it wrong," Izumi answered. Her hands clenched into fists and she finally revealed the truth.

"Homunculi are the products of failed human transmutation."


	28. The Nature Of A Homunculus

Inside _Devil's Nest_, Greed gathered several of the chimeras around in order to tell them of his plan, even though it was simplicity itself. They would find their target, capture him, and then bring him to _Devil's Nest_ for questioning.

"Everyone understood?" Greed asked.

The chimeras nodded, something that made the homunculus grin.

"Okay, then let's go."

"Not so fast."

Surprised to hear an unknown voice in the establishment, everyone turned towards the door. They certainly didn't expect to see a scarcely-clad young man with long green hair standing there, a big grin on his androgynous features. The man didn't address them, though. In fact, he hardly acknowledged them as he took a couple of steps inside, locking his gaze on Greed.

"Hello, Ultimate Shield."

Greed smiled, but everyone present could tell that he was mocking the newcomer. "Hello yourself, Ultimate… Oh, wait. You like to be called 'monster', don't you?" He chuckled. "I'm sorry for the unimaginative name-calling, but after 100 years of imprisonment, one's humour grows stale."

Envy snorted contemptuously. "You can consider yourself lucky. You weren't meant to be freed in the first place." He circled the taller homunculus in an inspective manner. "So what happened to the skeleton?"

This was the first time that Greed showed any signs of nervousness.

"I… destroyed it, of course."

"Really? Funny, considering you can't even touch it," Envy said sarcastically. "No, you keep it somewhere safe, of that I'm sure." His grin broadened. "All I have to do is take it back and she'll seal you all over again."

"I won't let you!" Greed exclaimed, arms turning black and claw-like.

Envy was hardly fazed. "You could try," he said. "But that's not what I came for."

Greed raised an eyebrow in mild surprise and changed his arms back to normal. "Then what is?"

"Oh, nothing all that important," Envy answered, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "I have a message from her."

"And what does she want?"

"She's not exactly thrilled that you're here," Envy said.

"Why do you think I came here in the first place? To get on her nerves," Greed declared, smirking.

Envy clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You give yourself too much credit. She's not interested in you whatsoever. In fact, she's willing to let you do whatever you want with this town on one condition."

"Which is?"

Envy examined his nails. "There are two alchemists circulating in this town. Their names are Elric. You are to stay away from them or pay the price."

"I see," Greed said. He crossed his arms and made a face as though he was thinking hard. "Well, that's quite the inconvenience. Ihave some business with the Elric Brothers myself."

"And what business could that be?" Envy asked.

"That's none of your concern," Greed answered back.

"I'm sorry, but… it _is_ my concern if it messes up her plans."

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Two elongated nails pierced the hearts of two chimeras that stood nearby, killing them on the spot, while another chimera's scream seized abruptly as it got mercilessly gobbled down by a fat, man-like creature. The rest of the chimeras took a step backwards in fear, staring at the other two homunculi who had entered quietly in the meantime.

Envy chuckled to see Greed so taken aback. "You know Gluttony, naturally," he said, and then pointed at the female homunculus, whose expression was unreadable. "This is the new Lust. And you should be happy to know that we have a new Pride and Sloth as well."

Greed clenched his jaw. "I see. We're becoming seven once more."

"You catch on fast," Envy noted in a matter-of-fact tone. "Now… do you still want to anger her?"

There was silence for a few moments, but finally Greed raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm ambitious, but smart. You can have them."

"Good," Envy replied. "That will be all then."

And with that, all three homunculi turned around and walked out, not bothering to look back. If they had, they would have seen Greed's angry expression.

"You can have them," the renegade homunculus muttered, "Once _I'm _done with them!" He turned to his henchmen, and quickly gave the signal for their departure.

They all had work to do.

øøøø

Silence reigned in the hospital room, where the boys still stared at their teacher after what she told them. Their eyes were wide open, and they looked as though their jaws would drop on the floor any second.

"Failed… human transmutations?" Al said. His voice was barely audible in his stunned state.

"Then… that's why they want to become human?" Ed breathed out. "To complete what their creators started?"

Izumi nodded.

"But that doesn't make sense!" Ed exclaimed. "The homunculi aren't supposed to be able to perform alchemy; that boy can!"

"And he's not like the others!" Al seconded. "Envy and Lust will stop at nothing to get what they want, and he hasn't shown any wish to find the stone!"

"Because he doesn't remember," Izumi answered. "All homunculi are like children in their first years of life. But as they grow older and more powerful, they only become more corrupted, until they end up hating their own creators and everyone else who has what they don't."

"Souls…" Ed breathed out.

"That's right," Izumi said. "As to why this boy… this _homunculus_…is able to perform alchemy can probably be explained if we take under consideration the precedent - your friend."

"Beregond?" Al wondered, but realisation caught up with him. "Wait a minute… They both spent _years_ inside the gate!"

"Which means that, in a way, they became part of the universal truth," Ed added. His expression was quite dark now, and he was looking at his automail hand in dismay. "But Beregond was brought here because his gods allowed it, while the homunculus cheated his way out by using _my _limbs."

"We don't know that for sure, but all clues point in that direction," Izumi said. "It's fortunate that the homunculus isn't aware of this yet."

"So you think he really doesn't remember the gate?" Ed asked.

"Yes. After all, Alphonse doesn't. Your friend didn't remember most of it either until his memories were triggered," the woman reasoned. "However, we have to make sure thehomunculus's memories aren't triggered; otherwise, the consequences could be bad for all of us."

"So what do we do?" Al wondered.

"You will help me get back on my feet," Izumi said. "I want you to find my teacher. She's knowledgeable in medicine and she can concoct something to strengthen me. Once that is done, we'll deal with the problem in our hands."

Both boys nodded their compliance. "So… where does your teacher live?"

"In a secluded area in the forest just outside of town," Izumi said. "Her name is Dante."

øøøø

Greed stepped out of the shadows of the alley where he was hiding to look around the corner. He needed to look at the area better before going any further.

"Is this the place, Loa?" he asked, pointing at the butcher shop that was just a few feet away.

The large man nodded.

"Good," Greed said, and his hands instantly turned black and claw-like. "Let's knock on the door, then."

The chimeras didn't have to be told twice. Most of them took their positions around the shop to make sure no one escaped, and then waited for Greed, Loa, Dorochet and Martel to make the first move. Smiling smugly, Greed broke the door in a single swipe and walked in.

"What's going on?" A large man, apparently the owner, rushed to the entrance. His hands clenched when he caught sight of Greed and he got ready to attack; but Loa lunged at him and tackled him against the wall so forcefully that the whole place practically shook.

"I would stay still, if I were you," Loa all but snorted.

"Boss?" a young man's voice sounded and, soon enough, the young man himself appeared as well.

"Get out of here! Take the children!" The owner managed to cry out before Loa managed a punch on his stomach. Seeing the danger, the man hurried up the stairs, but Martel was proved quicker, moving so fast that her feet barely touched the ground. Seconds later, she managed a powerful kick to the young man's head, rendering him unconscious.

Greed's toothy grin broadened at the prospect of success.

"Dorochet… sniff our prey out."

With his hand on the hilt of his sword, the dog chimera nodded and let out what sounded suspiciously like a howl before heading upstairs. Greed waited patiently for Dorochet to return, sure that he would get results soon enough. However, when Dorochet returned, he was empty-handed.

"He's not here," the chimera said. "The trail is relatively cold too. He must be gone for some time."

Greed snarled in indignation. This _wasn't_ going how he had planned at all!

_Dante, _he thought angrily. The homunculus was sure that she had something to do with this. She wanted the boys too, so she obviously acted even faster than him!

That, of course, called for a visit at _her _place as well.

"Greed, look what I found," said Kimblee at that moment, stepping inside the shop. He was holding a small boy by the waist and dragging a young girl by one of her wrists.

"Let go of me, you creep!" the blond girl exclaimed, doing her best to free herself, but Kimblee was hardly deterred. He just pushed her into the hands of Dorochet, who held his blade close to her neck.

Though the girl stopped struggling, she still felt compelled to shout: "What do you want?"

"Nothing from you, if that's what you're worried about," Greed said nonchalantly. He turned to Kimblee and pointed at the boy. "Release him. He's not the one we're looking for."

"I still think he's good enough," Kimblee answered. With that, he lifted the boy's right foot, where Greed clearly saw the sign of the Ouroboros. "I saw it when he tried to kick me," the alchemist explained.

"Really?" Greed asked, intrigued. He picked up the unconscious boy from the scruff of his neck and examined him carefully. "Where did you find him?"

"He was about to jump out of the back window along with his friend, but that's not all," Kimblee said. "The window was broken through alchemy; _his _alchemy."

It took a lot to take Greed by surprise. This time, however, he had to admit that he was astonished. One didn't see a homunculus able to perform alchemy every day, after all. More importantly, it was obvious Dante didn't know about him. If she did, she would have taken him along with the Elric Brothers.

Greed couldn't help but grin once more as a whole new prospect was unveiled before him. He was in need of allies, and now, by a sheer stroke of luck, he had gotten a most valuable one.

"Lock the girl in a room," he ordered. "We're leaving at once."


	29. Dante Of The Deep Forest

_A/n: Owing to a glitch, I had to reupload certain chapters. My apologies for that._

* * *

The forest outside the town of Dublith was quiet at this time of day. In fact, nothing was moving amid its tall trees, except for a young boy dressed in black, accompanied by his brother, a giant suit of armour, on their way to the errand their teacher had sent them on earlier.

"Do you think this Dante person can help Teacher?" Al asked at that moment, wishing to break the silence that surrounded him and Ed.

Ed shrugged. "Teacher asked us to go, so that alone means something."

There was silence once again. Finally, Al decided to just go ahead and ask what was _really _in his mind.

"Brother… there's something that's been bothering me. If homunculi are failed attempts of human transmutation, then Mom-"

"I can see the mansion," Ed exclaimed, cutting Al off mid-sentence. "Hurry up."

The suit of armour sighed in defeat. It was clear that Ed was trying notto think about that kind of possibility, so Al followed his brother all the way up to the mansion without another word.

Ed knocked on the door, but nothing seemed to happen.

"Hello?" Ed cried out, knocking on the door again. "Is anyone there?"

"Brother, you're supposed to wait," Al reasoned. "Look at the size of this place for starters."

If Ed meant to say anything to that, he never got the chance. The door opened and a young girl dressed as a servant appeared.

"Welcome, honourable guests," she said politely. "Your teacher called and Dante's been waiting for you… Oh my..." she added, her eyes slightly widening at seeing the boys. But the girl's surprise was nothing compared to the utter shock the boys were in.

"You… You're the girl I fought on my first mission as a State Alchemist!" Ed exclaimed. "Lyra!"

Oh yes, Ed could remember the incident only too well. Mustang had ordered him to go to the Yoswell mines to check on a corrupt lieutenant who was in charge there. He managed to expose the lieutenant and his bribing ways, thus ensuring that the villagers would once again be able to live freely and prosper. However, Ed also had to face the lieutenant's servant in an alchemy fight, something that made things a bit more challenging than he would have liked. And that servant was none other than Lyra.

Surprisingly, she only smiled. "It's good to see I'm remembered. Now come along. Dante is upstairs." And with that, she beckoned them inside and led the way.

"I still don't get it," Al said then, regarding Lyra curiously. "What are you doing here? The last time we saw you, you were placed in prison along with Lieutenant Yoki."

"Still trying to fulfil your dream of becoming a State Alchemist?" Ed said; his eyes were still locked on her, expecting her to attack him at any moment.

"I understand your bitterness after what has transpired between us," Lyra said, still smiling sweetly. "But after our fight, I realised that I was looking at things from the wrong perspective. So, after some wondering during which I tried to figure out a new purpose in my life, I decided to become Dante's apprentice."

"Do you like it here?" Al asked, trying not to notice the angry glare he earned from Ed. After all, though Al believed that there was always a time and a place to justify suspicion, he also felt this wasn't one of them.

"Oh yes, she's very good," Lyra said, nodding. "She's been teaching me how to depend on my own strengths and I've already learned quite a lot." She turned to Ed's direction. "So… I guess I should thank you for what you guys did."

"You're welcome, I suppose," Ed muttered.

She just giggled, obviously thinking that Ed was merely joking. In the next moment, she walked up to a small wooden door and knocked.

"Yes?" an old woman's voice sounded from inside.

"I have brought them, Dante."

"Very well, Lyra. Send them in."

The girl obeyed. She opened the door and she let the boys walk inside; then closed the door behind them. Ed and Al watched her go, but Dante's voice made them fae her again.

"Ah, the Elric boys," the old woman said, closing the book she was reading and standing up. "I have heard of you, but I never expected to see you here. When your teacher called, it was quite the pleasant surprise."

"You know of us?" Ed asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dante chuckled. "But of course. And I already know why you're here, so I'll prepare the medicine right away."

øøøø

Greed walked in the forest, looking to his left and right for anything out of the ordinary. After all, he knew that one couldn't be too careful around these parts.

"Mr. Greed? Is everything all right?"

It was Dorochet who asked that, although the other two chimeras that were escorting the homunculus apparently wanted to know the same thing. As for Kimblee, he just walked in a nonchalant way, giving the impression that he hardly cared about anything that was going on around him.

Greed didn't answer; not at once anyway. He just stopped, locking his eyes on the mansion that appeared in the distance.

"We've reached an evil place," he said.

None of the chimeras knew what to make of that statement. Kimblee, on the other hand, shrugged.

"You should have taken the boy with you," he said. "He might have proved useful."

"He'll be fine back at the Devil's Nest," Greed replied.

"Until he wakes up," Kimblee reminded him.

"Even after that," the homunculus said. "I'll make sure he knows what is in his best interests." He turned his gaze back to the mansion and then raised a hand in a signal for all of them to stop. "I'll go ahead to check the grounds. You know what to do."

And with that, he sprang up to the nearest tree with the ease and grace of a large cat. Leaping from one branch to the next, he finally got so close to the mansion that he could see everything that was going on in the garden.

His hands clenched into fists when he saw Dante talking to the boys he had been looking for.

_So I was right, _he thought in dismay. _Well, hag… this means war._

øøøø

Ed and Al still watched Dante cutting several herbs that she was growing in her garden, completely oblivious to their surroundings. They were certainly impressed by her vast knowledge of the plants and their healing abilities, and they even tried to keep in mind several of the things she told them about in case they came handy in the future.

"You could have become a very good pharmacist, Ms. Dante," Al commented. "Why did you decide to become an alchemist?"

She chuckled kindly. "It was a little impulsive from my part, I have to admit. But I was young then and I wanted to make a difference, so I thought the best way to do that was through alchemy. You, of all people, must know that alchemy is necessary to people."

The boys nodded. "We've been trying to make a difference as well," Ed said. "Wherever we can, that is."

She smiled. "That's good. But you must also understand that alchemy alone doesn't change anything. You have to combine hard work as well. Only then you can truly reach your goals."

"That's what Teacher has been telling us too," Al said.

That made Dante chuckle. "She'd better, I taught her after all." She looked briefly at the basket and, obviously thinking that she had picked up enough herbs, she walked inside the house. Ed and Al followed closely behind her, wishing to know more about the healing plants… and also something else. While Dante was boiling the plants in a small pot, Al asked the question.

"Ms Dante… what do you know about the philosopher's stone?"

The old woman seemed surprised by the question. She looked at both boys thoughtfully.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked. "Are you thinking of creating one?"

Ed and Al shuffled their legs in an uncomfortable manner. That, apparently, was enough as an answer to her, for she shook her head.

"They say that there's only one way to create a philosopher's stone. And one has to be driven by despair if he's to go down that road," she said. "Your father certainly knew that."

"Our father?" Al exclaimed at once. "Did you know him?"

Ed didn't share his brother's excitement. His features changed to a deep scowl.

"Yes," Dante said, not seeming to notice the boys' different reactions. "Hohenheim of Light was searching for the philosopher's stone as well before he disappeared." She paused for a moment, then looked at Ed and Al curiously. "I don't suppose you know where he is, do you?"

Ed snorted. "I don't even _want _to know." And with that, he stormed out without so much as looking back.

"Brother…" But Al knew it was already was too late, so he sighed ruefully. "I'm sorry about that, Ms Dante."

"Don't worry about it, dear," the woman said. "It's clear I said the wrong thing." She stirred the contents of the pot, checking to see if the mixture was getting the right colour.

Al considered for a moment that perhaps he should let the matter be for now. However, he knew nothing about Dad, and Ed wasn't willing to say much about him either. So, now that he found somebody that _could _tell him a few things about his father, he knew that it was too good a chance to pass up.

"Ms Dante… why do you think my father was driven by despair when he tried to create the philosopher's stone?"

Dante sighed. "Fear of death is enough reason to make someone despair."

Al suddenly felt uneasy. "You mean… he was trying to make himself immortal?"

"No… not himself. Your father was too noble for that," the old woman said at once with a wan smile. "He wanted to defeat death for those he cared for."

It was then that Al understood. Dante was clearly telling him that Dad was awareof Mom's illness, and he was trying to figure out any means possible to help her.

_Too late though, _Al thought sadly. And he could only wonder if Dad ever found out about her death.

_Probably not. _After all, if he had known, he would have returned to Resembool at once. Because of that, Al felt really sorry for Dad, and he couldn't help thinking that, if Ed knew, perhaps he would have felt the same way.

øøøø

Ed stepped out of the mansion with a huff, trying to rid himself of the last remnants of his anger. Damn it, why did the old man have to be mentioned in the conversation anyway? Yes, he was looking for the philosopher's stone too. Yes, he probably knew more about the philosopher's stone than Ed, or anybody else for that matter, would _ever _be able to find out. But Ed had already decided to neverfind that bastard and ask him personally for help; that would be sinking too low.

Before he realised what he was doing, he kicked a small pebble and sent it flying to some bushes nearby. It made him a feel a bit better somehow, releasing some of the tension he was currently feeling.

However, he didn't expect the pebble to land backin front of him and explode in the next moment. Ed quickly snapped his head up to see who was responsible for this. And when he saw a smartly dressed, thin man with yellow eyes looking back at him with a smirk, Ed recognised him at once. After all, it took more than a neat suit and nicely combed hair to change a person.

"Kimblee."

Kimblee didn't say anything, and Ed soon understood why. There was someone trying to sneak up on him from behind. Ed could clearly see their shadow towering over his. Not wishing to be caught unawares, Ed turned in the blink of an eye and punched his would-be attacker straight on the jaw with his automail fist.

The man didn't even move a muscle. In fact, he just grinned broadly. Shocked, Ed retracted his metal arm and moved his fingers, trying to determine what the problem was. He quickly figured it out when he noticed the violet-coloured eyes and the tattoo of the ouroboros on his adversary's hand.

"Surprised?" the homunculus said, the maniacal grin never leaving his face. "You shouldn't be. They don't call me the Ultimate Shield for nothing."

The last thing Ed before everything went dark was the homunculus' fist landing on his face.

øøøø

"You became awfully quiet," Dante said, noticing that Al had sat in a corner with his head bowed. "Is everything all right?"

Al snapped his head up, feeling as though he had just been dragged out of a dream. "I'm sorry, Ms. Dante," he said. "I was just thinking of a few things."

"About your father?" she asked, though her tone showed that she already knew the answer.

Al nodded, something that made her smile in understanding. Even so, there seemed to be something else in her mind as well, because she approached Al and sat beside him.

"Alphonse," she said. "I realise that it must be painful for you and your brother to go through this but… perhaps it might be to your best interest to find your father. If there's anyone who knows about the philosopher's stone, it's him."

"I know, Ms. Dante," Al said. "But if we can't find him anywhere…"

"Nothing disappears without a trace. You just have to know where to look," Dante insisted.

"What do you mean?" Al asked, unsure what to make of that statement.

"Surely, your father is a powerful alchemist," Dante replied. "You must have been able to see his handiwork somewhere; or even heard people talking about him."

"Yeah," the suit of armour said. "But it didn't do any good, I'm afraid. The last time we heard anything about Dad was-"

A scream filled the air, cutting into Al's words like a knife. Recognising Lyra's voice, Al sprang to his feet and opened the door.

Lyra was indeed at the end of the corridor. However, Al was shocked to see another woman hit the servant girl on the head with a small club, making her collapse on the floor.

"Lyra!" he cried, but he didn't have the chance to do anything else; another noise made him turn around. To his shock, the window was open, and a huge man had sneaked in to hold Dante at knife point.

"No heroics. No one needs to get hurt," the man instructed, keeping his eyes on the suit of armour. "Dorochet, inside."

A smaller man came in through the window, sniffing the air as he did so, then drew his sword and pointed the blade at Al.

"Okay, don't move," he said. He stepped towards the door and opened it. "Did you get everyone, Martel?"

The woman that Al saw before now entered the room, strapping the small club back on her belt. "It was just the girl. There are no sign of the others."

That was all Alphonse could take. "What others?" he asked in confusion. "And who are you people?"

The small man, Dorochet, cocked his head. "Isn't it obvious? We're kidnappers and you're comin' with us. Got that part clear?"

Al crossed his arms. "Sorry, but Teacher told me not to go anywhere with strangers."

The kidnappers looked at each other with a bemused expression before Dorochet decided to talk to Al again.

"How old are you?" he asked, scrutinising the suit of armour from head to foot.

"Fourteen. Fifteen in a couple of months," Al answered honestly.

"Right," Dorochet said. "So if you're that old, you should be able to think and act for yourself by now."

Al smirked, though he was perfectly aware that none of the kidnappers could tell that. "Really?"

"Really. If you ever want to be a man, then start acting like one. You can't just let your teacher run your life forever. You need to make your own decisions."

"Oh, I see!" Al said, as though he was at the verge of a great revelation. "I should think for myself!"

Dorochet grinned. "Now you're talking! So, you're gonna come with us-"

Al punched Dorochet on the jaw and sent him almost flying to the wall. Martel rushed to the man to get him back on his feet.

"I decided not to go with strangers," Al declared and placed his body in defensive position. "That's my decision and mine alone."

"Then we have no choice but to use force," the huge man said.

"Be careful, Loa!" Martel cried.

Loa nodded. Throwing Dante aside, he unbuckled a wooden sledgehammer from his belt and attacked. Seeing the danger, Al quickly sidestepped. The sledgehammer hit the wall instead, forming a huge crack. That was proof enough to Al that he was dealing with a very powerful opponent indeed, probably not even human. When Loa attacked again, Al leapt back, because he didn't dare think what would happen if the sledgehammer hit his head.

But Al quickly found out that he couldn't afford to worry only about Loa. Dorochet had recovered from the punch as well, and now he had joined the fight as well. He wielded his sword fast, trying to find any opening in the armour's defence.

He couldn't. Al was too good a fighter.

Nevertheless, the kidnappers had one last trick up to their sleeves. Pushing his sword in a crack on the armour's neck, Dorochet used the blade as a lever to detach Alphonse's helmet from the rest of the armoured body. That in itself wasn't bad, since Al could still control his body. But then Martel leapt on his shoulders and pushed herself insidethe armour.

"Pardon for the intrusion," she said _almost _sweetly, twisting her body with the agility of a snake to make herself comfortable.

"WHAT?" Al cried out, for he realised what the woman was trying to do.

She didn't seem to mind him. "It's a lot more spacious than I thought at first. This makes things easier for me."

It took a lot for a calm boy like Al to freak out, but now he was practically running around in a state of panic.

"Ew, ew, EW! It's gross! I don't feel it, but it's definitely gross!" He reached for his chest plate. "I'm getting you out!"

"No, you aren't!" she declared smugly.

Al was horrified to realise that the woman's limbs suddenly stretched to incredible length, filling the space inside his arms and legs. Al now knew that none of his adversaries were human. He tried to bend his arms again, but Martel still fought back.

"How does it feel to be controlled from the inside?" she asked.

Al didn't plan to give up so easily.

"You can't… control me… completely…" He bent his arms again, attempting to place himself in defensive position again.

She laughed, however. "I don't intend to, kid. I just want to slow you down."

Sure enough, Al didn't manage to react in time when Loa lunged at him and threw him to the ground, twisting Al's arms behind his back and forcing him to stay down.

"Are you all right, Martel?" Loa asked when it dawned on him that his treatment wasn't exactly gentle.

"I hit my forehead," the woman said, sounding dismayed.

"Sorry," Loa said. He looked at the suit of armour, his grip not loosening in the slightest. "Well, Alphonse Elric, it seems you now have no choice but to come with us."

Al could do nothing but accept his defeat.


	30. Kidnapped

Izumi woke up at the sound of a commotion outside the room. She didn't know what to make of that racket at first except that the doctors where rushing on some kind of emergency. Because of that, she intended to close her eyes again and mentally shut her ears from it. There was nothing else she could do anyway.

But it was then that she heard her husband's voice.

"Check him first; he was hit on the head."

And then she heard Winry's voice too.

"But, Mr. Curtis, your ribs!"

Izumi tensed at once. What was that about Sig's ribs? And who was hit on the head?

She brought herself into a sitting position without so much as a second thought. She was still hurting, of course, but that wasn't important right now. She needed to find out what happened, and she needed to find out _now._ She got out of bed and froze for a moment, testing her strength to remain standing.

She could walk. That was good. It meant she could get out also. Keeping her body straight, she steadily walked up to the door and opened it to have a look outside.

Sig was sitting on a chair, where a nurse was bandaging his torso. Mason was on a bed, unconscious, and the doctor was examining his eyes with a small flashlight. As for Winry, she was sitting a little further away, looking at the two men with a worried expression on her face.

"What happened?" Izumi demanded.

"Mrs. Izumi!" Winry exclaimed, not expecting to see the woman there.

Sig shook his head.

"You should be in bed," he said quietly.

"And _you _shouldn't be in this condition," Izumi said, glaring at him. "So what happened?"

"They were attacked by thugs," the doctor explained at that moment, placing the small flashlight in his pocket. "They wanted to rob your shop."

That had Izumi thinking hard. No thugs were ever able to get the upper hand on her husband or even Mason before, so that was an unlikely story. But the doctor wouldn't lie about such a thing either.

It was obvious that her husband and Winry were hiding something.

"Did they get anything?" she asked Sig, hoping that her husband would understand what she was really asking.

"One thing only," Sig answered.

_One thing…_ She looked around and she noticed what _was _missing. She sighed mentally.

_Of course… the homunculus_.

"Did you recognise any of them?" she asked again.

"No," Sig said. "However, one of them dropped this." Sig reached for his pocket and took out something small to hand it to Izumi. She held it up and looked at it carefully.

It was a matchbox, and on it was written the name of a particularly notorious bar: _Devil's Nest._

"I see," she said.

"I suggest you keep that," the doctor said at that moment. "It could be an important piece of evidence for the police."

Izumi nodded absent-mindedly, not really paying attention to what the doctor was telling her. She turned to look at the unconscious form of Mason. "Will he be fine?"

"Yes, yes, don't worry. He'll just have a bit of a headache when he wakes up," the doctor answered. "However, your husband should stay in bed as well. There is a possibility that he might have cracked a couple of ribs."

"I understand," Izumi said. "Can I stay with them for a while?"

"I suppose," the doctor said after a brief consideration of matters. "However, I wouldn't suggest staying up for more than five minutes. You're still in quite the weak state too."

"All right. Thank you, doctor."

"All part of my job." And with that, he and the nurse were gone, leaving their patients alone.

That was the opportunity Izumi needed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked Sig, keeping her eyes locked on him.

Sig returned the gaze unwaveringly. "Strong enough."

She nodded. "All right. I'll go get dressed."

"What?" Winry exclaimed, looking at both of them with eyes wide open. "You're planning on leaving?"

"We have to get the boy back," answered Izumi. "You understand that, don't you?"

"But you're still weak," the girl said. "The police…"

"The police don't know what they'll be dealing with. Besides, I can't afford to wait that long," Izumi said. "Just say here and look after Mason. All right?"

That finally silenced all of the girl's objections. She bowed her head in defeat. "Yes."

Izumi nodded, and then clenched her hand into a fist around the matchbox.

"Good."

* * *

The first thing that Ed felt as he became alert once more was the throbbing headache and the ache in his jaw. At first he wasn't sure why he should feel this way, but he quickly remembered what happened. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a ceiling.

"What-?" he tried to ask, but his voice was unusually thick.

"I wouldn't move for a little while longer if I were you, Edward Elric."

Ed turned at the sound of that voice in surprise. Dante was sitting on a chair next to him, holding a wet piece of cloth. And when he looked to his left, he saw Lyra drawing a transmutation circle on a torn picture on the wall in order to fix them through alchemy.

However, there was someone missing.

"Where's Al?" he asked hoarsely.

Dante shook her head ruefully. "I'm afraid they took him."

Ed felt like his heart had missed a beat. "Who did?"

"Three strange creatures only made to resemble human," Dante answered. "Your brother tried to fight them, but there was nothing he could do."

_Only to resemble human?_

Only then did Ed remember the homunculus that had punched him on the face. And Ed couldn't help but bite his lower lip as her realised that the homunculus didn't work alone. The question was: who did he work with?

"Had you seen those creatures before?" Ed asked, now wishing to find out as many answers as possible.

"No, but I had heard of them. They cause trouble around these parts now and then," Dante said. "Their usual haunt is the Devil's Nest, a small bar at the other end of the city."

"Right." And with that, Ed sat up. He hissed in pain as his head protested that motion.

"What are you doing?" Dante asked at once. "You must stay and rest."

"Not when my brother is in the hands of kidnappers," Ed answered. He stood up and headed for the door, but he froze as he remembered himself.

"Mrs. Dante… my Teacher's medicine…"

Dante waved her hand dismissively. "I'll send it to her with Lyra, you need not worry. Just be careful."

"Of course," Ed answered, and then he quickly exited, hoping that he'd find Al soon.

He never saw Dante still looking at the direction of the door, a strange smile crossing her features.

"Yes… You _are _valuable, after all." She stood up and looked at Lyra. "When you finish here, go clean the mess in the kitchen, too. There's some other business I have to attend to."

"Of course, Dante," the servant girl said with a nod.

Dante didn't bother with a reply this time. She just headed out the door and towards her study, where there was a phone. And as she started dialling a particular number, she only thought of one thing.

_I had warned you, Greed. Now you will pay the price._

* * *

Al sighed again and looked around the basement. The place where he was placed by his kidnappers was quite barren but for a couple of barrels on which that Dorochet creature sat.

However, Al knew that it wouldn't do any good if he tried to escape now. For Dorochet wasn't the only one guarding Al.

"I'm sorry about this," Martel said, still residing within his body. "It may feel disgusting with me inside, but you'll have to deal with it."

"That's okay; I've gotten used to it," Al said politely. "Try not to scratch my seal, though. That could kill me."

"No problem," Martel answered. She paused for a moment, and Al could tell that she was examining him. "You know… your body is pretty interesting," she finally said.

"I guess so," Al said, shrugging a bit. "But you aren't an ordinary human either, right?"

She chuckled. "No, I'm not. You know about chimeras, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my body was merged with a snake," she explained.

Al gasped. "No way!"

"Yes way! I'm the living proof, after all!" Martel said.

Al had to admit that there was no reason why the woman wouldn't be telling him the truth. "But… how did that happen?"

"It's kind of a long story. However, the short version of it is that I used to be in the military and I got seriously injured during the Ishbalan War. I was half dead when they carried me into the military's research labs to be used in experiments. I didn't have the strength to say much in the matter and so this was the result."

"That's cruel," Al said softly. After all, he could still remember a little girl that was merged with her dog in the name of experimentation. Nina didn't have much to say in the matter either – she was too young and she loved her father.

"Yes, it was," Martel said, her tone becoming a bit gentler.

It was then that Dorochet decided to join in the conversation as well. Snorting, he took out of his pocket a small pipe and a matchbox.

"You think it mattered to _them_, kid? In their eyes, we were nothing but lab rats," he said to Al. He lit his pipe and shook his hand to extinguish the small flame on the match. "Nevertheless, we can still consider ourselves lucky. Wewere the _successful_ experiments, because we wanted to live that badly. Others though…" His voice trailed off, yet it was clear what Dorochet was implying.

If Al could, he would have shuddered in horror.

"So… what are _you _merged with?" he asked, looking at Dorochet.

Dorochet let out a bark of laughter. "Take a wild guess."

"Yes," Martel said with a tease. "Just watch him when he'll lift his leg to-"

"Hey! I don't do _that!_" Dorochet exclaimed defensively.

If the woman even meant to retort, she never found the chance. At that moment, the door of the basement opened and a tall man stepped in, followed closely behind by other chimeras that served as an escort. Al watched all of them, trying to determine what each of them had been merged with. He certainly recognised the lizard-like creature that apparently posed as a beggar to get close to him and Ed, but he couldn't say the same about the others.

That is, until he locked his gaze on a large bear-like chimera that was desperately trying to hide his face with a thick raincoat and a hat.

"Mr. Tucker? Is it really you?"

Tucker let out a small, frightened noise. "Don't misunderstand me," he said in his usual whisper, which nevertheless did nothing to hide his panicked state. "I'm not here because I want to."

"No," another chimera said, his sneer making him resemble a very large cat. "He's our guest, since he's the only who can revert us to our original forms."

"Quiet, if you please," the tall man finally said, raising his hand. The chimeras fell silent at once, and so Al knew that that man was the leader of the chimeras. However, he couldn't determine if that one was also a chimera or not.

The tall man stepped closer to Al, looking at him with quite the scrutiny and with a curious smile on his features. Suddenly, and before Al could do anything about it, he had also reached for Al's helmet and picked it up.

"Amazing," the man exclaimed. "You really _are _empty!"

"Yes," Al answered. "And I think I already know who could have told you." His shoulders turned slightly, indicating that he was looking at Tucker.

"I wasn't the one that had you kidnapped, Al," the bear-chimera said.

"No," Al said. "You just stood by and watched."

"Please, you can sort out your differences later," the tall man said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He put the helmet back between Alphonse's shoulders with a smile. "I'm called Greed. Let's be friends, okay?"

Al just huffed. However, Greed had gotten so close now that the suit of armour could easily see a very familiar tattoo on the back of one of his hands.

"You're a homunculus."

Greed whistled. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves here a genius!" he announced with a grin. "So what gave me away?"

Al pointed at the tattoo. That was enough as an answer.

Greed chuckled. "So you know about this. That's good; it makes things easier for me."

"So where are Envy and Lust?" Al said, aware that there was no time for such meaningless chat. "You work with them, don't you?"

But Greed shook his head. "No, I don't. Actually, I'd say we're more like mortal enemies."

Al's flickering eyes widened in surprise. "Then why would you want to kidnap me?"

"Because I want to ask you a question," Greed said. "What does it feel like to live in a body that can't die?"

Al stared, unsure what to make of that question. "Why do you want to know?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want that secret of yours," the homunculus replied, his hands twitching. "They don't call me Greed for nothing, kid. I want it all! Money and women; power and fame; _everything _within this world – including immortality!"

"So…" Al said cautiously, "…what makes you think I can hand you that secret?"

"Well," Greed said with another big toothy grin of his, "the fact that I'll obtain it one way or another."

Al tensed at once. "Then you're no different than the ones you call enemies."

"You can believe that if you want… OOF!"

Greed never managed to complete his sentence, because it was at that moment that a giant fist emerged from the ground and hit him squarely on the stomach.

"You let your guard down," Al declared. Indeed, he used the opportunity while no one was paying close attention to draw an alchemy circle with a piece of chalk he always kept in his gauntlet. "Now to take care of the rest of you!" And with that, he started drawing again before Martel would try and stop him.

However, Greed was hardly daunted. "Really? And do what?" At the next moment, his hands had turned black and claw-like and cut the stony fist in two. And before Al had the chance to react, he had grabbed the suit of armour from the back of his neck and pushed him violently on the ground. "Just relax, will you?"

"Ow…"

Surprisingly enough, Greed chuckled sheepishly - because it wasn't Al who let out that moan of pain.

"Sorry, Martel. I forgot you were inside."

"That's… okay…"

Al just lifted himself slowly and in silence, accepting his defeat.

Greed clicked his tongue, clearly disapproving that kind of reaction. "Now what's with that long face? Don't get me wrong, kid. I like your feistiness, I really do. It's just that it will hardly do you any good in this case. If you want to beat me, you'll have to do at least this."

That was the last thing he said before Loa swung his sledgehammer and struck. His force was so terrible that Greed was actually decapitated and his head rolled a couple of feet away from the chimeras. The body collapsed with a sickening thud.

Al stared in shock for several moments, trying to take in what had just happened.

"W-Why did you do that?" he shakily asked Loa. "I thought you were working for him!"

Loa didn't answer though. And a second later, Al was horrified to see that Greed's body was anything _but _dead. In fact, it got back to its feet and stood up. A skull sprang up from the base of the neck, and soon the skull was covered with crimson muscles and eyes. Moments later, the muscles got covered with skin and hair and Greed was smiling broadly as though nothing strange had happened whatsoever.

"See? I have died once now. Although, I must say, it _could_ have been a bit less messy." He glared at Loa's direction as he said that.

"Sorry," the bull-chimera said embarrassedly.

But Greed didn't bother with a second look at the chimera. He turned again to Al.

"You're probably thinking that I already can't die that easily, so I shouldn't need immortality."

Al didn't say anything, for he was in too much of a shock. Not that it mattered to Greed anyway; he just kept talking.

"Well, you see… a body like this isn't really immortal. When-"

Suddenly, the light of another alchemic reaction filled the room, and a large door formed on the wall. Startled, the chimeras backed away from the particular wall, waiting with bated breath to see what would happen next.

"Hey, kid!" Martel exclaimed. "Do you want Greed to get us acquainted with the floor again?"

"But it's not me!" Al said. "It has to be my brother, trying to rescue me!"

Al realised just how wrong he was when _Izumi _stepped into the room, her hands clenched into fists and her features drawn to a snarling expression. And, to Al's horror, she wasn't alone either – Mr. Curtis was right behind her, looking just as ready to start fighting.

"Excuse my interrupting," she said, her voice resembling a growl. When she caught sight of Al, however, she could only raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"Care to explain what _you're _doing here?"

"Um… long story?" Al stammered so nervously that it was a miracle he just didn't break down right then and there.

"Whoa! Whoa! Hold on a second there; I'll do the talking here!" Greed said, stepping forward. He looked at the newcomers from head to toe. "Okay, I remember you," he mused, looking at Mr. Curtis. "But what are _you, _lady?"

Izumi had only _one_ answer to that.

"PISSED OFF!"

* * *

Ed ran as fast as his feet could carry him, looking to his left and right for any sign of the _Devil's Nest_. And yet his search wasn't easy. Though he had lived for quite some time in Dublith and he had learned his way around well, this was the one part of town that he wasn't familiar with.

In short, he was looking for his brother blindly, and that proved frustrating. He certainly didn't want to think what the kidnappers could be doing to Al, while he was wasting his time like this.

He turned left to another alley, but that one proved to be a dead end. Swearing under his breath, Ed retraced his steps and got ready to spring away again.

"Wait, Edward Elric! What's the matter?"

Ed froze and turned around at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Major…"

Major Armstrong was really behind him, looking at him in a curious manner. "What has happened? Why are you running?"

Ed bit his lower lip. "Nothing. I just… have to be somewhere," he lied. It wasn't that he didn't trust the major, far from that. But Al was _his _responsibility.

Armstrong nodded. "I see. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"What? Why?" Ed exclaimed before he could help it.

"Because you're getting close to a bar named _Devil's Nest_. According to an anonymous tip, it's the lair of all the chimera fugitives from Lab 5, so the Führer has already ordered an assault – and to kill them on sight."

Ed felt like his heart had stopped. "Is that where you're going now, Major?"

Armstrong nodded.

"Then I'm coming with you!"

"Edward…"

"No, you don't understand!" Ed said. "My brother's been kidnapped by those chimeras and he's being held in that bar! I have to find him before they hurt him!"

Armstrong's eyes widened. "Young Alphonse… is captured?"

Ed nodded.

"Right! Then there's no time to lose! We must inform the Führer at once!"

Ed was relieved to see that Armstrong was willing to help him. However, he never expected the burly man to just grab him from his waist and then start running!

"Hold on, Edward Elric! This method of sprinting has been passed down my family for generations!"

Ed couldn't argue with that. He was more concerned about the stomach he was forced to leave behind.


	31. Fight At The Devil's Nest

Dante sat in the garden, calmly sipping her tea and a curious smile on her face, when Lust and Gluttony appeared. Gluttony didn't keep his gaze on one place, wishing to look at something that he could eat. Lust, on the other hand, looked at Dante quite warily.

"Pride said you wanted to speak to us," the female homunculus said.

"Yes, I did. I have new orders for you," Dante said, placing the cup of tea back on its plate. She knitted her fingers and leant forward. "I want you to head for Liore as fast as possible. I want you to make sure that Scar succeeds in creating the philosopher's stone. Once he does, kill him and take the stone."

"Are we to bring it here?" Lust asked.

Dante shook her head. "I can no longer call this place a safe haven for me. So Iwill come and find _you._ Is that understood?"

"Yes, Dante," Lust answered.

Though it was a satisfactory answer, the old woman could tell that there was something troubling the female homunculus. It didn't take a great mind to guess what that something was.

"What are you afraid of? The sergeant?" she said with a sneer.

Lust didn't answer, nor did she have to. The old woman waved her hand dismissively.

"He won't be in Liore. If he's anything like the man he resembles, he'll want to see his precious boys first."

"How can you be so certain?" Lust asked before she could help it.

Dante chuckled. "It's in his blood."

* * *

Dorochet let out a cry of pain and ended up crashing on the wall. He tried to stand up, but another chimera was sent flying in his direction and landed right on top of him.

It was to be expected, Al supposed. They shouldn't have tried to attack Izumi from behind.

Greed chuckled at the sight in his usual nonchalant manner.

"You know…" he said. "It's not very polite to barge in here and start hitting my men."

"It's not very polite to barge in my shop and kidnap someone either."

Al blinked, Izumi's words surprising him. Who else could Greed have kidnapped? The only ones at the shop were Winry and…

_Oh no._

"Teacher? Is the boy here too?"

The suit of armour realised that speaking was the worstthing that he could have done right then, for it turned Izumi's attention back to him.

"Yes, he is," Izumi agreed, her tone deceivingly calm. "And, since we're at it… WHY THE HELL DID _YOU_ GET YOURSELF KIDNAPPED?"

"S-s-sorry!" Alphonse all but squeaked, trembling so much that the plates of his armour rattled.

"No, you'll be sorry later, after I'm done here!" Izumi promised. She turned to Greed's direction. "Release them both. Now."

Greed clicked his tongue. "No can do, lady. I need them."

Izumi's upper lip curled upwards. "Is that so?" At the next moment, she clenched her right hand into a fist and struck.

Though there was a sickening crack of bones, it wasn't from Greed's jaw. Greed chuckled as the hard black material retreated from his face, revealing skin once more. "You really shouldn't do such things without a warning, lady. Now you've just gone and broken your fingers."

Izumi pulled her fist back, cradling it close to her, but she didn't show any sign of pain; she wasn't willing to give Greed that kind of satisfaction. "You certainly have a strange body."

"It's because he's a homunculus, Teacher!"

"Aw, come on, kid!" Greed exclaimed in slight dismay. "Don't go about spreading my secret like that!"

Izumi's brows furrowed. "So that explains why you wanted the other boy…" she mused thoughtfully. She straightened herself again and clapped. "Then I'll have to face you another way!"

She never noticed Tucker looking at her in surprise, realising that Edward Elric wasn't the only one who could perform Alchemy without a transmutation circle. She just placed her hands on the ground, forming a stony cocoon around Greed's body. Greed, on the other hand, didn't even tryto put up a fight, something that left the woman more than a little perplexed.

"I don't like fighting women," was Greed's answer to her questioning glance. "Look, lady… you have no claim on the other boy. He's not human; he should be with _his_ kind."

"And what do you want this one for?" Izumi asked, pointing in Al's direction.

"Just the secret behind his transmutation in order to gain immortality for myself. You don't happen to know it, do you?"

"No." She clapped again, and this time she formed a giant stony fist that hit Greed directly on the face.

It was of no use. At the impact, the fist simply crumbled in large chunks on the floor.

"I told you… You can't hurt me thateasily, lady." The homunculus' hands changed to black claws, and the stony cocoon was soon in crumbled pieces as well. "You had your fun. Now it's _my_ turn."

That was the signal that the rest of the chimeras had been waiting for. With the exception of Tucker and Martel, who was still inside Alphonse, they took a step closer to the intruders and surrounded them. Izumi now realised that her predicament was quite dire. Nevertheless, she was still willing to fight as she brought herself into defensive position.

It was then that Sig walked in front of her, his back to her and his eyes locked on the chimeras. And for the first time, Izumi didn't know what to say.

"Dear?"

"I can't watch you getting hurt anymore," was all that her husband said, his gruff voice unusually soft.

Izumi bowed her head. "I can't risk… losing my other children. You know that, don't you?"

"I know."

"How touching," Greed noted with a smirk. "You both have guts, I've got to hand it to you."

Neither Sig nor Izumi answered; not in words anyway. The burly man lunged forward with speed and agility that belied his bulk and punched one of the chimeras on the face. That gave Izumi an opening to renew her own attack against Greed but, unfortunately, the homunculus was expecting it. He just stepped aside, and avoided the impact entirely.

It still didn't deter Izumi. In one fluid motion, she had turned around and swung her leg, hitting Greed on his ankle and so making the homunculus lose his balance. Greed recovered quickly, only to come face to face with a spear that Izumi had transmuted in the meantime. Each time she tried to pierce him, he took a step back, until she finally had him cornered. All she needed was to aim right…

It was then that her body betrayed her. A new series of coughs made her heave blood and she collapsed, unable to control her shudders.

"Izumi!"

"Teacher!"

Greed locked his gaze on the woman, taking in the pitiable sight she was now. "Oh, I see," he said with a smile. "You were reallypushing it, lady." His right claw picked Izumi from her collar, and he held her up like some sort of rag doll. "You, fatso…" he said, turning to Sig. "Stop fighting if you know what's best for her."

Sig didn't have any other choice. He let go of the chimera he was about to hit.

"Get your hands off of her!"

Everyone turned around in surprise, because the voice came from behind them. And there, by the entrance Izumi had already transmuted for herself, was Edward.

* * *

"Hurry! Units 5 and 7 will cover the back entrance! Units 3 and 9 will surround the area!"

Those kinds of orders were going back and forth within the ranks of the police force that was now moving towards the infamous Devil's Nest. The chief inspector supervised the operation with a critical eye, and then turned to the four military men that were with him.

"Everyone's taking their positions, Your Excellency," the police officer said respectfully. "We should be ready in about five minutes."

"Good. That's all the time Major Elric needs to distract the enemy," King Bradley said. "Now remember my orders, inspector. Anyone who tries to put a fight is to be cut down on the spot."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"All right." Bradley turned to his subordinates. "Gentlemen, arm yourselves."

Armstrong tore off his military jacket, while Private Howard and Lieutenant Colonel Archer totted their guns. Bradley simply removed his military jacket and strapped four swords behind his back.

"On my signal, we move in."

* * *

If Greed was surprised at Ed's appearance at the Devil's Nest, he certainly didn't show it. In fact, it seemed that he was becoming more intrigued with the way the events kept turning out. He looked in Edward's direction with a raised eyebrow.

"And now that you've graced us with your presence, it seems that the whole cast is assembled," he said.

Edward didn't bother with an answer. He locked his gaze on the chimeras, trying to see how many there were inside and how many he could take on. But when he noticed a very familiar bear-like chimera standing a couple of feet away from him and desperately trying to conceal himself in the most shadowy part of the room, he could feel nothing but dismay.

"You again," he said through gritted teeth.

"Edward…" However, Tucker didn't continue on. His whisper of a voice died in his throat when he saw the death glare the young alchemist gave him.

That, Edward supposed, took care of the most cowardly of the lot, so he now turned at Greed's direction.

"You know… you caught me off guard back at that mansion. I should have spotted your ouroboros tattoo sooner," he said.

"Perhaps you should have," Greed said, grinning toothily.

"And what do you want?" Ed asked.

The homunculus heaved a bored sigh. "You know… I'm really tired of answering that question over and over again. So let me be a bit more original and suggest a trade."

"A trade?" Edward crossed his arms and looked hard at Greed. "What have you got to offer?"

"It's good to see you're willing to listen," Greed said. "The offer is very simple. You and your brother seem to be quite interested in Envy and Lust. Iwant the secret of the transmutation of the soul. I can give you what you want, as long as you give me what _I _want. It's a good deal, don't you think?"

"Because of the Law of Equivalent Exchange?" Ed asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Greed said with a nod.

"Really?" Ed still looked in the homunculus's direction, never taking his eyes off him. His heart was pumping fast and blood was rushing in his veins, boiling up to the point that Ed just snapped.

"HOW ABOUT NO!" he shouted on the top of his lungs, his young features heavily contorted in his wrath. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID KIND! YOU KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER AND YOU HURT MY TEACHER! THAT MAKES YOU THE _WORST _VILLAIN OF ALL!" He pointed at Greed's direction, all but frothing from his mouth. "YOU WANT TO KNOW THE SECRET BEHIND THE SOUL? I WON'T TELL YOU SQUAT ABOUT IT! AND YOU WANNA KNOW WHY? BECAUSE RIGHT NOW THERE ARE ABOUT 50 MEN OUTSIDE AND THEY'RE RAIDING YOUR JOINT AS WE SPEAK!" He took a couple of steps forward, straightening his body in full stature and in defiance. "VILLAINS DESERVE NO EQUAL EXCHANGE!"

This was the first time that Greed actually showed some signs of worry. Frowning deeply, he turned to the chimeras.

"Loa, Dorochet, stay here. The rest find out if the boy is telling the truth, now!" As soon as most of the chimeras exited, the homunculus glared at Ed and held up the motionless form of Izumi. "As for you, you seem to forget that I have her…"

And then it happened. Thinking that the woman was unconscious, Greed didn't have to react when she would grab him by the arms and throw him on the floor. He landed on the stony slabs with a loud thud.

"Teacher!" Ed cried. "Are you all right?"

"Never mind about me! It's him we should worry about!" she said. She clapped, aware that Ed would follow her example, and stony spikes sprang under Greed to pierce him through. Greed cut the spikes with his claws and advanced threateningly toward the two alchemists. Cursing mentally, Ed got ready to perform another alchemic reaction, but the sound of heaving stopped him and made him turn around.

Izumi was on her knees, coughing up blood again. Sig rushed to her side and tried to help her up, but it wasn't possible; the previous outburst of energy had drained her. Ed now knew that the woman was done fighting for today. He instantly transmuted a wall before any of the remaining chimeras or Greed would get too close. It wouldn't hold them forever, Edward was sure of that. But even a few seconds would be enough to talk to Sig.

"Take care of Teacher, Mr. Curtis," Ed said. "If you head for the exit, you should find someone to help you."

Sig didn't have to say anything; he nodded his compliance and lifted Izumi in his arms. Ed watched the couple go with relief. After all, even if any of the chimeras out there were foolish enough to try and stop Sig, they would regret their mistake as soon as he'd punch them out of consciousness.

Still, Ed had to rescue Alphonse. And when he deconstructed the wall, he was dismayed to see Greed was giving his own instructions to the remaining chimeras.

"Take the armour. We can get back to him once I'm done with this fight."

Loa nodded his acknowledgement and lifted Alphonse as though he was as light as a feather. He was certainly not daunted by the armour's attempts to struggle free, for Martel was controlling him from inside.

"Alphonse!"

"Brother!"

Ed didn't waste any time. He transmuted his automail into a blade and lunged forward, aiming for Loa. He hit Greed's black arm instead. Sparks sprang at the impact, but the hand was unscathed.

"You haven't learned your lesson yet, have you? You can't lay a scratch on me!" the homunculus said in a patronising tone. He swiped at Ed, but the boy leapt back before the claws made contact with his body.

"All I have to do is find an opening!" Ed said through gritted teeth. He clapped again to form a series of stony pedestals that allowed him to spring at the homunculus from above, yet it was still no use. Greed's claws simply stopped the blade on time.

"Or die trying," Greed completed before swiping again.

This time, his claws found Ed's ribs. Stifling a cry of pain, Edward staggered back and clutched his injured side in the hopes of stopping the bleeding, but the wound was quite deep.

"Thiswouldn't have happened if you had just accepted the deal," Greed said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's foolish to risk your brother's life and yours in such a way, don't you think?"

"Oh, don't worry about my brother; I'll rescue him after I'm finished with you," Ed said defiantly. "You can't regenerate forever."

That was an answer that Greed didn't want to hear, for he sighed dramatically and shook his head in a disapproving manner. "I guess I'll have to get _really _hard on you now – no pun intended."

Ed didn't know what to make of that statement. That is, until he saw the blackness in the homunculus' arms spreading up to his torso and legs and, lastly, his head, thus making himself impenetrable.

"Okay, kid. Now come and get me – if you can."


	32. Innocence Lost

Running footsteps, screaming and shouts jumbled into one big chaotic sound as the raid still continued on within the walls of the Devil's Nest. There was a big crash, and the police task force barged into another room, firing at everything in sight. A chimera fell down, cursing the raiders and declaring that he wouldn't go back to the lab alive. Those were also his last words as one of the policemen shot him on the head.

And then other voices were heard. Those of a man, asking for help.

"Please, my wife isn't well. She needs a doctor!"

The policemen toted their guns, but it was an unnecessary action. The burly man that walked through the door wasn't a threat, for he was holding the bloody form of a woman in his arms.

"What's your name, sir?" the commander asked, lowering his gun.

"Curtis," the man answered. "Help her, she's lost too much blood."

"We will, sir; but I need to know something first," the commander said. "Are there any other friendlies here?"

"Three boys and one of them is in a suit of armour. They're further inside."

"All right, we'll find them," the commander said. "Please follow one of the men outside. The place is no longer safe for you."

The man didn't say anything this time; he merely nodded and complied with the commander's words. The task force went further down, entering another door, but little did they know that there was one chimera that didn't want to die just yet. Jumping among their ranks, he hacked the policemen that were closest to him. Two fell dead, while the commander fell down, clutching a deep gash in his abdomen.

Still, the raiders were too many for the chimera, and he was certainly no match for the guns that were now getting aimed at him. But the small chimera wasn't alone. A terrible roar filled the air and a large chimera charged forward, wielding his sledgehammer. In one blow, he managed to strike four policemen, making short work of them. The commander lifted his gun to fire at the inhuman creature, but the chimera was faster. At the next moment, the commander was dead, his blood staining the floor red.

"You let your guard down, Dorochet."

"Sorry," the dog-chimera said, scratching his ear in an embarrassed manner. "Where did you put Martel?"

"She's safe for the time being," Loa answered simply. He nodded his head in the direction of a corridor to their left. "We can't get out from the main exit. We need to fight our way out."

Dorochet's eyes widened at this. "What about Greed?"

"He'll come, you know that," Loa said, swinging his sledgehammer over his broad shoulder. "Let's do _our_ part of the job, shall we?"

Dorochet smiled wryly. "Without killing ourselves in the process, I hope?"

Loa just shook his head at that.

* * *

Stains of crimson adorned the wall, trickling down to the floor and making gruesome puddles next to numerous steel bolts and plates that were scattered everywhere. As for Ed himself, he was in a bloody heap against another wall with his eyes shut, not moving.

Feeling his curiosity overwhelming him, Greed approached at the boy, examining it with quite the scrutiny.

"Are you still alive?" he asked. He wasn't in the least concerned, of course, but he wanted to know the outcome of the battle.

The only answer the homunculus got was an angry glare from a pair of half-opened eyes and some blood-filled spit landing on his face.

Greed smirked and wiped the blood with the back of his claw. "Good. Kids like you should be livelier." Long fingers grasped Ed's neck and lifted the boy practically in mid-air. "And now that I have your attention, you _will _tell me the secret of the soul."

Surprisingly enough, Ed didn't fight back. He simply let out a weary chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Greed inquired, crimson eyes piercing the young alchemist through.

Ed returned the stare unwaveringly. "I could… tell you. But… I'd rather tell you I'm thinking more clearly now."

As the last words flowed out of his lips, Ed clapped again and pressed his hands on Greed's arm. Fearing that the boy was about to pull some other alchemic stunt, Greed dropped Ed at once.

"Enough!" he declared angrily, raising his fist in a threatening manner. "You will _obey _me, boy!"

Ed didn't remain idle. Curling his automail into fist too, he snatched the homunculus' hand and didn't let go until blue light surrounded the black claws. In a matter of moments, the black skin was destroyed, revealing the pearly-white bones underneath it. Taken aback, Greed pulled his hand away, but his alarm changed into a cocky smirk when he saw his arm regenerating once more.

"Nice try, kid. But futile."

He charged again, but Ed was already prepared for him. He jumped back before the claws could slash him, and then used his alchemy to create huge blocks on the floor. He jumped on one of them so that Greed wouldn't be able to hit him again, and then lunged at the homunculus, clapping and placing his hands on his adversary's chest.

Blue light surrounded the homunculus again, but Greed was hardly fazed. He grabbed Ed and threw him across the room on some boxes.

"If it didn't work before, what makes you think that it's going to-"

He never completed his sentence, because Ed created a rocky spear which ran_ through _Greed's torso. Blood spurted out of Greed's mouth and he staggered back, eyeing the boy incredulously.

"What… what did you do to my shield?" he asked, faltering.

Ed stood up, a small smile of smugness evident on his features. "It's pretty simple if you think about it. You can't make something out of nothing. In other words, you made your shield out of something. Since homunculi are failed human transmutations, it means they have the same composition as humans. And within the human body there's carbon. The hardness of the compound changes depending on the intermolecular bonds of the carbon atoms. That's why it can be as soft as a pencil and as hard as a diamond. As long as I know how it works, my alchemy can do the rest. And there's one more thing, too."

At the next moment, Ed had jumped on Greed again. After clapping his hands and placing again them on the black body, he slashed Greed's unprotected chest with his automail. Ed took a few steps back, blood trickling from his blade.

"I discovered you can't harden and regenerate at the same time."

Greed checked himself as his body returned to its normal black form. And yet the homunculus didn't seem troubled at all. In fact, a loud roar of laughter rolled out of his lips and filled the room.

"Well, well… You might prove an interesting adversary yet!" he announced. "For a moment I really thought you were just a hot-headed brat!"

"You'll pay for that mistake," Ed said, setting himself in an attack position again.

It was then that the door burst open and about a dozen policemen rushed inside. Ed and Greed stared at them in disbelief.

"Well," the homunculus said with a haughty smile. "I think that's my cue to leave then." He faced Ed with a grin, as though in a cheeky "farewell", and then jumped to the nearest ventilation system.

That wasn't good at all, Ed knew that; for Greed still had Al hostage.

"WAIT!" He tried to run after the homunculus, but a pair of arms grabbed him and held him in place.

"Easy, kid. Leave the matter to us, okay?" the policeman said.

"But you don't understand! He has my brother!" Ed said, struggling to pull himself away. "I have to go!"

"Not in the mess you're in!" the policeman insisted. "Now let us do our job and rescue you!"

Ed couldn't help it. He cried out his frustration, and hoped that Al was alright.

* * *

"Behold the legendary mastery passed down in the Armstrong family for generations!"

And with that, Armstrong side-stepped again and grabbed the sledgehammer the huge chimera wielded. Yellow light surrounded the sledgehammer and, in a matter of seconds, it had been transmuted into a statuette that bore a striking resemblance to Armstrong himself.

The chimera stared at the sledgehammer dubiously, then at the smaller, sword-wielding one that offered back up. It was clear that neither had expected such artistic tendencies.

Armstrong merely beamed, his sparkles glowing more strongly than ever.

"Well," the huge man said then, throwing away his now useless weapon, "It looks like I'll have to use my full power on you."

Armstrong didn't really understand what the chimera meant by that. That is, until a terrible snorting sound reverberated through the corridor and the chimera became bulkier and larger. Horns adorned his forehead, and veins popped up in the thick muscles.

The major looked on, realising with what kind of chimera he was dealing with. He placed himself in defensive position, ready for the incoming attack. A whole bulk of muscle charged at him and nearly threw him off balance, but Armstrong didn't back down. He grabbed the chimera by the arms, trying to subdue him as he would have an actual bull, but it was easier said than done. The chimera was a tough opponent, throwing Armstrong continuously up against the wall, making sure that the rough surface grazed the alchemist's face.

Still, Armstrong still had a few tricks up his sleeve. With the agility that belied his physique, he managed to pry himself off his adversary's grasp and knock him off his feet. A roar of surprise escaped the chimera's lips, and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

It was the perfect opportunity to finish off the chimera, but Armstrong did no such thing. He just stood there, looking at his adversary with quite the amusement.

"I must thank you. I haven't felt my blood rushing through my veins likes this in a long while," he said.

Surprisingly enough, the chimera was just as cordial as he stood up and chuckled. "And I must congratulate you, Sir Armstrong," he said. "You're certainly as powerful as in the past."

Now that was something that Armstrong didn't expect to hear from the chimera's lips. "You know of me?"

"Indeed," the chimera said with a nod. "I'm Loa. I also participated in Ishbal. And so did Dorochet here."

Armstrong regarded both chimeras thoughtfully. "That makes you former comrades. One more reason I should do this." He put down his fists. "If you know me at all, Loa, you are aware that I don't enjoy senseless killings. Please, surrender yourselves now."

Loa snorted. "That's out of the question."

"Are you sure about this?"

Sound of footsteps filled the corridor and about six armed policemen stood behind Armstrong, ready to fire at the first opportunity. But Armstrong didn't move away.

"Major, step aside!" one of the policemen said.

Armstrong didn't heed him, though. He meant to talk some sense to Loa and Dorochet, and he would see that he did.

"Don't be foolish," he continued on. "Don't throw your lives so recklessly."

"Why should we listen to you?" Dorochet exclaimed.

"Because the Führer is here, too; the very man who ordered the massacre in Ishbal," Armstrong said. He looked hard in Loa's direction. "You know what that means, don't you?"

Dorochet swallowed hard. "Damn it…"

"He's planning to wipe us out," Loa completed.

Armstrong only nodded this time. That was enough as an answer.

"Then we need to get out now," Dorochet declared. "We-"

He never completed his sentence, for it was then that the silver blade of a sword pierced his stomach through and through. Blood spurted from the chimera's mouth, and his eyes widened in disbelief and shock. And as he collapsed on the floor, everyone could see that Bradley was standing right behind the unfortunate creature.

"What do you think you are doing, Major?" Bradley asked. His voice was cruelly cold, his grey eye reflecting nothing but determination to kill.

Armstrong never got the opportunity to answer, because a bellow of wrath filled the air.

"DOROCHET!" With that, Loa charged against Bradley, blinded by fury and desperation.

A pair of shining blades moved so fast that, before anyone could blink, the large chimera had fallen on the floor, nothing more than a bloody slashed-up mess. Everyone gaped dumbly at the sight as they became witnesses to Bradley's fighting ability. All, that is, except for Armstrong.

"My orders were clear. Kill everyone but the objectives," the Führer said in a quiet tone. "You shouldn't feel sympathy for your enemies. That is why you haven't been promoted, Major."

Armstrong said nothing. But if anyone saw his trembling fists, they would have realised what kind of answer the major was willing to give his superior.

* * *

"This way! Come on!" one of the policemen said, and the rest of the squad followed him.

But Envy didn't follow the task force. Keeping the private's form and the gun in his hands, he turned to another corridor and started opening the doors one by one. He knew that Greed kept the skeleton somewhere here, and Envy needed to find it in order to confront the runaway homunculus.

So far he had opened three doors, only to find nothing. Wherever Greed kept the skeleton, he had made sure to hide it quite well.

When he opened the fourth door, however, he came across an even more interesting find: a young, unconscious boy that Envy didn't see on his last visit at the Devil's Nest.

The homunculus approached cautiously, feeling his curiosity getting the better of him. He examined the boy from head to toe, only to see there was something _very _unusual about the particular boy. For one thing, his limbs were mismatched. And, as he looked closer at the boy's feet, Envy made yet another discovery. The red symbol of a homunculus on the boy's right sole.

"Well, well, I see we have a newborn here," Envy commented, transforming to his androgynous form, and he shook the boy by the shoulder. "Hey, kid. Wake up."

The boy moaned and stirred weakly. His eyes blinked, reflecting his confusion as he checked his surroundings – only to widen in horror as they caught sight of Envy.

"Where did youcome from?" Envy asked, hardly concerned about the boy's terror.

The boy screamed and, at the next moment, he merged himself with the wall in an attempt to escape through it.

Envy just grabbed him from the ankle and yanked him back to the room. Though the boy struggled to pry himself loose and get away, the older homunculus' grip was too tight.

"You know a few tricks too. I must say I'm impressed," Envy said with a chuckle.

"LET ME GO!" the boy shouted.

"Come, come," Envy admonished in a paternal tone. "Is that a way to greet a brother?"

The boy stopped his fighting at once, and he stared at Envy with eyes wide open. "B-brother?"

Envy nodded. "That's right. _This_ is what binds us," he said, showing his own symbol of the homunculus on his thigh. Feeling that he could let go of the boy now, he loosened his grip. "Tell me. You don't remember much of your life, do you?"

The boy hesitated to answer for a moment, trying to think. But in the end, it was clear that he had to admit that he didn't, in fact, remember much; for he shook his head.

"I thought as much. Neither do I," Envy said. "Because we're homunculi, created out of human foolishness and pride. Although…" and with that, he gave the boy the once over, "you _could _use some kind of improvement." He reached for a small pouch that was tied on his clothing from a piece of string and opened it to reveal several red stones inside. He picked one up and held it up in front of the boy. "Eat this."

The boy pushed himself back, staring at the stone apprehensively. "What's that?"

"Something very good for you. Don't be afraid," Envy said. He didn't wait for the boy to voice his objections; as soon as the boy opened his lips, he shoved the stone inside the young one's mouth.

The boy flinched, but he didn't spit the stone out. He remained frozen for several moments, taking in the taste of the object in his tongue, and then _chewed_.

"Need more?" Envy asked sweetly, handing out some more red stones.

The boy snatched them in the blink of an eye and started eating them with such an appetite that could easily be matched to a hungry wolf's. It was a sight that certainly pleased Envy.

"Savour them well," he said with a smirk. "Savour the human life that's encased inside them."

The boy stopped himself, horrified.

"Human life?" He immediately spat the half-chewed stones out, wiping his mouth in an attempt to rid himself the foul feeling.

Envy raised a thin eyebrow. "What's the matter? You don't like it?" His cruel laughter filled the room. "You will change your mind soon enough."

If the boy ever meant to ask what Envy meant by that, he never got the chance. Spasms started coursing through his whole body, making him scream his pain and agony.

"Don't fight it," Envy said with eerie calmness. "It will be over soon."

Sure enough, the seizures stopped as soon as they had started. A minute passed, then two… and then, breathing heavily, the boy pushed himself back to his feet and locked his _violet _gaze on Envy.

"Did you awaken me?" the voice was emotionless and resembling almost an angry hiss.

"Indeed," Envy answered. "Welcome… " He stopped, making a face as though he was thinking hard. "You know… you need a name."

The young homunculus clenched his hands into fists.

"Just call me Wrath."

Envy grinned.

"Wrath it is."

* * *

Still on his guard and the gun totted in his hands, Lieutenant Colonel Archer walked down another corridor and found himself in the Devil's Nest main room. The place was in a mess, with chairs and tables upturned – it was clear that, whoever was there, had tried to run for their lives to escape their death.

Some of them didn't quite make it. Archer could see their motionless bodies sprawled on the floor, their eyes hauntingly open and reflecting their terror.

Then again, Tucker was always a coward.

Archer only snorted a bit, and then used his foot to push aside the body of a lizard-like chimera as he kept walking. He didn't need obstacles in his path, after all.

It was then that he heard another set of footsteps approaching. He tensed and held up his gun, ready to fire if necessary.

"I'd rather you didn't shoot me before you heard what I have to say," a calm voice sounded from the shadows of the corridor. "It might interest you."

"I'd rather negotiate with criminals face to face," Archer said. "So why don't you show yourself?"

"The military is always so sceptical," the voice said again and, at the next moment, a neatly dressed man in civilian clothes stepped out. "Satisfied?"

Archer felt his eyes widening ten-fold, for he recognised the man.

"You're Zolf J. Kimblee! The Crimson Alchemist!" he exclaimed. "You were supposed to have been executed a long time ago!"

"Well, guess what… they let me live," Kimblee said, swinging the small bag that he was holding in his hands over his shoulder. "And I have a little something that just might please his Excellency."

"What is it?"

"Tut, tut," Kimblee said, shaking his finger in a 'no' gesture. "I want something else first. If the top dog himself ordered I should remain alive, it means that I have yet some use to him. But I can hardly offer my services when I'm considered a runaway criminal, isn't that right?"

Archer lowered his gun just a bit, whereas his brows furrowed in a frown as he contemplated matters carefully.

"Tell me…" he finally said, "Your ability is to use the elements of any object, organic or not, to blend them into a bomb, right?"

Kimblee nodded.

Archer put his gun away.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer. Congratulations, Crimson Alchemist; you've convinced me. I'll talk to the Führer about your… good intentions."

Kimblee just grinned broadly.

TBC…


	33. Blood Spilt

"Now that was something out of the ordinary."

Another policeman looked at his colleague curiously. "What was?"

The first one pointed at the bodies of the chimeras. "Those two… and the Führer."

"Don't forget the major," a third one said with a chuckle, overhearing the conversation.

The second one shrugged indifferently. "I don't care for slaughtering. It leaves a bitter taste in the mouth."

"Well, you have to carry the bodies just like the rest of us," the first policeman said. "Now grab this guy's legs."

The second policeman complied, albeit grudgingly. He walked up to the bull-chimera and knelt down… only to collapse on the ground, sliced in two.

The dog-chimera arose with a grunt, using his blood-coated sword as support. Though he trembled violently, his eyes shone as he got ready his next kill.

The policemen remained rooted on the spot, scarcely believing what they were seeing. "You're still-?"

That was the last thing either of the officers said. At the next moment, Dorochet made short work of them, slicing them just like a reaper. He didn't even bother to look at the falling corpses. He simply headed out the corridor, limping and cursing under his breath.

* * *

Underneath Devil's Nest, there was a different kind of world; a maze of darkness and silence. That was the best way to describe the sewer system that was built underground. Now, however, the silence was disturbed by two voices: a woman and a boy's, both of them arguing and struggling for control of the armour that currently housed them both.

"I have… to get out…"

"Don't think… about escaping…"

"Let me go!"

Footsteps echoed down the tunnel. Martel and Al looked up in surprise, unsure as to whom those steps belonged to, but they got their answer when Greed stepped out of the darkness.

"So you're here," Greed said, seeming surprised_. _"Where are the others?"

"It was getting dangerous, so they both left us here and they went back up," Martel explained, pushing the helmet away so she could get a better view of the homunculus.

Greed shook his head. "No good. There are too many up there. As soon as they get back we'll have to plan our escape."

"I'm afraid _I _can't allow that."

Everyone turned around, for they didn't expect to hear anothervoice so close to them. Al and Martel gasped in shock, for it was the Führer himself. Greed, on the other hand, didn't seem that impressed.

"Okay, who are _you?_" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sir?" Al exclaimed.

"Bradley?" Martel cried out.

_That_ caught Greed's attention.

"Bradley? As in… Führer Bradley?" he mused, locking his gaze on the approaching newcomer. "That's interesting. What's the most powerful man of the State doing here?"

Bradley didn't bother to answer. In fact, he made a question of his own.

"How old are you?"

Greed stared at Bradley dumbly. "Excuse me?"

"I'm turning 60 this year," Bradley continued, unsheathing one of his blades without losing a beat in his steadfast walk. "So, you understand, I want this over and done with."

"Really?" Greed said with a chuckle. "Well, here's another suggestion, gramps." And with that, he transformed his right hand into a claw once more. "Retire while there's still time."

At the next instant, his claw was chopped off from the rest of his arm and landed on the water with a plopping sound. Greed stared at his arm in stunned confusion, but Bradley didn't lose any time at all. He placed himself in attack position again; then lunged at the homunculus, slicing him mercilessly.

Now Greed knew that he was in trouble. He didn't have the time neither to rejuvenate _nor _harden his body, and though he tried to gain some time with a few feeble attacks of his own, it was of no use. Bradley simply kicked him directly on the chin with such force that he threw Greed right through the wall.

"Curses, _what_ are you?" Greed exclaimed, trying to get back on his feet.

"That's not the right question," Bradley answered coldly, walking through the hole in the wall. "What you should ask yourself is: How can I survive battlefields full of flying bullets without ultimate shields and blades and _still _rise to this rank?"

With that, in a motion so fluid and fast that it was barely visible, he untied his eye patch to reveal the sign of the ouroboros in his eye.

It was enough to make Greed flinch.

"Now you understand. Just as you have the ultimate shield… _I _have the ultimate eye," Bradley said, a cruel smile tugging on his lips. "Now… just how many times do I have to kill you before you die?"

* * *

Al didn't move from where he had sat, trying to hear any kind of unusual noise. Martel, on the other hand, remained inside Al's armour, unsure what she should do.

"What's happening? Where's Greed?" she asked.

Al shook his head. "I don't know. It's too dark in here for me to see."

Suddenly, sparks and the sound of blades swooshing together filled the air, and both boy and woman managed to discern in the darkness the forms of Greed and Bradley, still locked in combat. And, to their surprise, Greed was losing badly.

"Greed!" Martel cried out. But when she tried to get out, Al didn't let her.

"Are you crazy? It's dangerous!"

"Bradley's killing him!" Martel said. "I have to go!"

"Oh man… Guess my timing sucks, doesn't it?"

At the sound of that voice, Al and Martel turned around to see Dorochet limping towards them, clutching his side in a weak attempt to stop more blood from flowing out. He could barely hold the sword in his hand, yet he still gripped it out of stubborness.

"You know," the dog-chimera said grimly, "I wish I could run but… dogs are too loyal for their own good. They remain at their master's side till the end, no matter what." He looked at Alphonse with a thoughtful expression on his features. "Martel, you're still inside, right?"

The woman didn't expect that question. Even so, she answered. "Yes."

"Good." And with that, Dorochet cut Al's bonds with his sword.

Al stared at the chimera incredulously. "What are you doing?"

"Please," Dorochet said, his voice soft... even sad. "Protect her for me. I'm counting on you, okay, kid?"

A gasping sound escaped Martel's lips. "Dorochet, what…?"

She never got her answer, because it was then that Dorochet let out a terrible cry and rushed forward, wielding his sword wildly as he got swallowed by the darkness of the tunnels.

Martel screamed. "NOOO! Al, let me out!"

Al kept his helmet in place. "No!"

"Damn it, I don't have the time to argue with you now! Let me out!" Martel cried, punching the helmet in the hopes of pushing it out of the way.

"You heard what Dorochet said!"

"Dorochet's an idiot! Now let me out!"

Al trembled, for he could easily hear the clash of the swords and Martel's screams of agony were tearing him apart.

"No means no," he whispered, doing his best to keep his voice from trembling.

"So you expect me to just stay in here and let him get slaughtered?" Another bang reverberated through Al's armour. "Let me out! Please!"

The boy couldn't do that, though. Not while he still heard the clashing.

"OPEN UP!" she shouted again.

Dorochet's hoarse, pain-filled cry filled the air, and then there was the soft sound of a body – a _dead _body – hitting the water.

Martel banged on the armour again… but there was no more strength in her.

"I'm begging you…" she whispered tearfully.

Al bowed his head. "No."

And the sound of fighting ceased altogether.

* * *

Pride held both blades tightly, a look of contempt in his eyes as he approached the kneeling Greed.

"That makes it fifteen deaths so far. How many more lives are left in you?"

"Son of a…" Greed stood up once more, looking angrily at the other homunculus. "I've got another question for you, Ultimate Eye. How are you gonna pay for what you did to my subordinate?"

Pride raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "You're actually feeling sympathy for a pawn. That's foolish."

Greed scoffed. "Sympathy? Are you kidding me? There's a reason why I'm called Greed_,_ you know! Money, women _and_ subordinates, all of them belong to me, and I'm not ready to give up my possessions, neither to you or the hag!"

Pride shook his head. "Then your greed is foolish and it needs to be dealt with." And with that, Pride attacked again, this time pinning Greed on the wall with both blades, killing him again.

"Stay here for now."

* * *

Al looked to his left and right, feeling the quiet that surrounded him now stifling him. Even Martel had grown silent, something that the suit of armour considered a blessing, under the circumstances. There was no telling what would happen if the woman was discovered, and that was something Al couldn't afford. For Al was always true to his word, and if he was asked to protect someone, then he did.

_I have to go up on the surface, _Alphonse decided. Once there, he figured, he would get Martel out of him and sent her away. Hopefully, by the time the police force or the military went after her, she would find a good hiding place and perhaps a chance to restart her life somehow.

It was with that thought in mind that the suit of armour moved. However, a very familiar voice stopped him on his tracks.

"What's the rush, Alphonse Elric?"

If Al were able to, he would have swallowed hard.

"N-nothing," he stammered, chiding himself for his hesitant tone. Al had never been a good liar, but now it was the time to _be _one.

"Are you injured?" Bradley asked again, coming closer. His patch was covering part of his face, but Al could still discern the kind smile on the man's features. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, I'm fine!" Alphonse said at once. "I can walk."

"Are you sure?" Bradley insisted, offering his hand.

"Yes, I-"

It was then that his arm moved as though on its own accord and grabbed Bradley by the throat. Al gasped in horror, for he knew quite well what was happening.

"Martel, no!"

She didn't listen to him. With tears of fury trickling down her youthful round visage, she still held Bradley's throat, doing her best to squeeze his life out of him.

"Stop it, Martel!" Al cried again.

She only stuttered one word. "B-Bradley…"

"Please… Don't!"

Bradley said nothing. He simply drew another sword from his back and thrust it in one of the armour's many cracks.

Al screamed as he felt the blood getting splattered inside him, staining everything… including his seal. Excruciating, mind-numbing pain coursed through him as he was suddenly falling into a blackened void from where there was no return. Al tried to fight back, but hands resembling snakes guided him swiftly into a large gate and didn't let go. Not even when the gate opened and he was shoved inside. Not even when the knowledge with which his head was filled almost overwhelmed him. Not even when he saw a bright presence just ahead of him.

_Mother?_

_Mother! _

But it wasn't her. It was another soul, and it was lying in what appeared to be a deep sleep. It was a soul Al wasn't supposed to know. Even so, Al was sure that he _should_ know it. Or rather… he _would _know it much later.

_How…?_

His hands reached out for the familiar figure. He could almost touch it…

"AL!"

Al blinked, snapping out of what had seemed like a bad dream and finding himself in a room he didn't know, surrounded by numerous people that were talking amongst themselves… and Ed banging on his armour.

"Damn it, Al! Just answer me!"

Still dazed, Al lowered his gaze in his brother's direction. "Brother?"

"Of course it's me, Al! Are you okay?"

But all Al could see now was the red colour that stained his brother's cheeks.

"You have… blood on your face." He looked around to get a better glimpse of his surroundings, finally registering that he was back at the Devil's Nest. "Wh-What happened?"

It was then he noticed it. His chest plate was wide open… and a covered body was sprawled on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Al," Ed said ruefully. "They had to open you and take her out of you."

Alphonse shook his head. He caught himself trembling, as a wave of grief and anguish washed through him, replacing the numbness that had grabbed hold of him.

"Al?"

The suit of armour just buried himself in his arms, his tone filled with the tears that he couldn't shed.

"I couldn't… save her…"

Ed sighed and patted his brother's arm. "It's not your fault, Al."

"But…"

"Al, we can't save everyone. You know that, right?"

Al didn't speak this time. He simply nodded.

"All right," Ed said. He stood up, careful of the bandages that covered his wounds. "Let's go now. I need to clean you before we check up on Teacher."

Al nodded again, but he didn't even try to lift himself. Armstrong, who had been watching the conversation closely, stepped close and stood beside Edward.

"I can help him, if you want," he told Ed gently.

Ed looked in Armstrong's direction in relief. "Yeah. Thanks, Major."

"Wait a moment."

Ed and Armstorng turned around and stood in attention, recognising the voice, but Al flinched and bowed his head. Bradley had indeed come into the room, escorted by Lieutenant Colonel Archer. The Führer was back to his usual military attire, and he was now walking towards Ed with quite the stern look in his features.

"Major Elric?"

Al could sense his brother tensing. "Yes, Sir?"

"There's something I must ask you about the mastermind behind all this," Bradley asked, getting straight to the point. "Did you negotiate with him?"

"No," Ed answered at once.

That answer wasn't enough for Bradley. "Did you get any important information?"

It didn't take a great mind to see that Ed was now stepping on dangerous ground.

"Nothing that would interest the military," he replied, choosing his words carefully.

However, it seemed Bradley wasn't that easily fooled. "Don't misunderstand me, Major Elric," he said, his voice cold and business-like. "This isn't about the military. If you have done any deals with them, then we could even execute you on charges of treason. Now…" and with that, he took another step forward, "Did you make any deals?"

Ed returned the gaze unwaveringly. "None. Any other questions?"

Al caught sight of Armstrong placing a hand on Ed's shoulder – a sign that he was becoming dangerously defiant in the presence of the Führer. A presence that was now suffocating the young boy.

"Brother… let's go home…" he said weakly. He couldn't take anymore of this. He just wanted to get out.

Ed still looked at Bradley, jaw set and all but clenching. "You heard my brother, Sir. He wants to go home. Are there any other questions?"

Bradley smiled. though there was hardly any mirth reflected on his features.

"That's it. Thank you, Major Elric."

And he walked out, without looking back.


	34. Recovering

Night had settled swiftly in Central. The winter chill was quite unsettling, so there was hardly a mouse stirring outside.

It was the perfect opportunity for one to circulate without being seen by any unfriendly eyes, a thing most fortunate. For if anyone had seen the woman and the man she was helping to walk up to her house, it could have meant certain trouble.

Sarah huffed slightly as Maes started leaning too heavily on her. She couldn't blame the man for her predicament though. She would have preferred it if Maes had remained a couple of days more at Dr. Knox's house, so he could regain some more strength.

It wasn't possible though. Colonel Mustang had already said that they couldn't risk having Maes at one spot at all times. There was a chance that Douglas would finally see through the ruse they pulled on her, and then she would leave no stone unturned till she found Maes and finished him off. Medical facilities and doctors would be the first to be searched for any answers they could provide.

Still, Maes would require some basic medical attention for a few days more at least. That was why Sarah brought Maes to her house. As the woman herself reasoned, they were _very _few who knew about her previous job as a nurse or her servitude in Ishbal. And if there was anyone who remembered the name Sarah, they would certainly remember a certain Sarah Kasem – her husband's last name.

In other words, it would take a while before anyone would make the connection and her house could be a safe sanctuary for a while.

"All right, Maes," she murmured, heaving the man upright. "You will have to lean on the wall for a while till I get the key out."

"Okay."

Sarah registered the slurred tone and scrutinised Maes's face carefully. The man's gaze was slightly unfocused, and she could detect some mild heat when she touched his cheek.

It was as she had feared. The venture in the outside world was starting to pay its toll on the still frail Maes. Sarah could now only hope that a few hours of healing rest would suffice before there was any serious relapse. She quickly dug out the key from her purse and opened the door.

"Just a few more steps, Maes," she said, trying to sound encouraging. "You'll get to lie down soon."

This time, the only answer she got was a small moan of acknowledgement. Sighing, she dragged the man upstairs; then opened the door to another room. It was a small one, but it was sufficiently furnished with some medicine, a bed and an IV.

"Here we go," she said gently. "Just a little bit more, Maes." And with that, she placed him on the bed as gently as possible.

But Maes didn't say anything. He had drifted off the moment his body came in contact with the mattress. All Sarah could do was make sure that his wounds didn't reopen after all that strain; then place the IV on his arm. It didn't take a great mind to see that Maes would be sleeping for quite many hours after that.

That gave her the chance to plan a few more arrangements. She had already told Gracia that she and Alice would go back to their home, not wishing to impose on the woman any longer. However, Sarah could still spare a few more days before she went back to work, so she could stay in the house. In that way, she made sure that she kept a careful watch on Maes – as well as Alice, so that the the girl wouldn't discover Maes by accident. If need be, she could easily take Alice to Gracia after school to keep Elysia some company.

This could still prove very hard though. She would be on her own this time and doubly careful because of that, while carrying on with her life as normal in order to avoid any suspicions.

She could only hope it would be enough.

* * *

"All right, it's clean now," Ed announced, looking carefully at the chest plate. However, the darkness of the night made things difficult for him, and he wouldn't be able to find any more stains even if there _were_ any. He could only hope that Al wouldn't notice either way.

Speaking of which, the – now open – suit of armour had grown pretty quiet. Indeed, he hardly said anything as he sat at a small set of stairs, staring at nothing in particular.

"Al?"

Alphonse finally looked up. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Al said softly. "I'm just confused."

Ed sighed, already guessing what the problem was. "Al, what happened at the Devil's Nest wasn't your fault."

"No, it's not that," Al said at once, shaking his head. "Although…"

Ed cocked his head and regarded his brother curiously. "Although what?"

And then, Al finally said it.

"When Martel died… I remembered what happened back then… when we tried to revive mom."

Ed felt like his heart missed a beat. "You mean… _everything?_"

Al nodded. "Including the Gate."

A sigh escaped Ed's lips, and the young alchemist sat down beside Alphonse. He kept down a groan of pain at the discomfort, cursing the fact that his injuries didn't allow him to move as freely as he wanted. "I didn't want you to remember."

"Yeah… I know why now. It was terrifying," Al said. He bowed his head in a saddened manner. "And I didn't find out anything about Human Transmutation either."

"I know," Ed said.

"But… I saw Beregond."

If Ed was surprised before, now he was utterly stunned. He stared at Alphonse incredulously. "What?"

Al just nodded though. "That probably shows how far I had gone inside the Gate before you pulled me back. But…" and at that Alphonse looked at Ed with eyes reflecting his puzzlement, "I don't get it. We were trying to revive Mom. Why did I see _him?_"

Ed shook his head. "I don't know, Al. It could be because it's not possible to bring back what's dead; so we were offered the next best thing in exchange for what we lost."

"Someone who was about to awake," Al said, catching on.

"Yeah."

That made Al sigh. "So, basically, we didn't really find out anything more than we already knew."

"No, we did."

Now it was Al's turn to look at Ed dubiously. "What are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Al," Ed said. "Do you remember what the Führer said about the Homunculi and Lab 5? While we were back at the hospital in Central?"

Al shifted a bit, his body posture clearly showing he was thinking. "Yeah… He said that they could be connected to traitors within the military, that's why he wanted them caught."

"Exactly," Ed said. "And yet he ordered that _all_ the chimeras should be executed on the spot. If the Führer really wanted the traitors caught, as he claimed, then he should have kept at least some of those chimeras alive and have them spit any kind of information they had."

"You know, you're right," Al said, his red eyes slightly widening at the realisation. "And it was strange that the Führer himself came to the Devil's Nest instead of calling for reinforcements from the nearby military base."

"Yeah, that's not making much sense either," Ed agreed.

Al faced Ed. "Do you think the Colonel might know something about that? It could have to do with the war in Liore."

Ed pursed his lips. "Maybe. But I don't want to talk to him just yet. Besides, I think I know what he's going to say."

"What's that?" Al asked, intrigued.

"Stick to the military and observe till we get our answers."

Al nodded. "Yeah… that sounds like him."

Ed didn't say anything this time. He merely stared at his hands in silence, until he finally got up, patting Al on the shoulder.

"Come on. Let's go check on Teacher."

Al complied.

* * *

Though the mansion was dark, it didn't mean that there weren't people inside - or rather, creatures only resembling humans. Pride and Envy were there, keeping an unconscious Greed under chained bonds and waiting for their mistress to come to the main room. As for Wrath, he was standing a bit further away, keeping his arms crossed and giving the impression that he was hardly acknowledging anyone.

None of them was surprised when Lyra appeared instead. In fact, Envy grinned knowingly and looked straight into Lyra's eyes.

"It looks you decided to get into a young body again," he said. "What did you do with the other one?"

"It's destroyed," Lyra answered, quite pleased with herself. "I need to put one final touch to my plan, but it can wait. Now we have other business at hand." She looked at Greed, scrutinising every detail of his face. "He's paralysed. Does that mean we have the skeleton?"

Pride nodded. "The Crimson Alchemist was more than willing to offer his services," he said. He handed the large bag to his – formerly – old mistress.

Lyra smiled as she took the bag, checking the contents inside. "A job well-done indeed, Pride." Still holding the bag in her hands, she faced the unconscious homunculus. "Wake up, Greed."

Greed complied, groaning. He blinked, certainly not expecting to find himself in the mansion and looking at a young woman. But, as he still stared at her, he understood with whom he was dealing.

"Well, well. That's an unpleasant surprise," he said dryly.

Lyra shrugged her shoulders. "It serves you right, 'Ultimate Shield'. I warned you to stay out of my way."

Greed just snorted and looked at the other three Homunculi. "And I see you got yourself some new toys to play with." He locked his gaze on Wrath. "In fact, you _stole _one from me."

"Nobody stole me," Wrath said, his voice scratchy and snappish. "I just don't want to be with weaklings like you."

"There will come a time soon enough that you'll regret that decision," Greed said, shaking his head. He turned to face Pride. "And who's this?"

Dante decided to indulge the homunculus. "This one's Pride. I created him almost 60 years ago."

Greed smirked. "A homunculus that ages. I have to admit that you outdid yourself this time, hag."

Surprisingly enough, that made the woman chuckle. "You still know how to sweet-talk a woman, I see. It's no wonder I was attracted to the man you were based on." However, at the next moment, her face became quite serious and she took one step closer to Greed. "Why did you leave me?"

"You gave me life and the appropriate name," Greed said candidly. "If I stayed with you, my greed wouldn't be satisfied."

"I see," Lyra said. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, as though contemplating matters carefully. "And what if you work with me now?"

Greed knew just the right answer for that question.

"Not in a thousand years, bitch!"

Lyra sighed in mock defeat. "Then you leave me no choice. It's time to correct my mistake."

And with that word flowing out of her lips, she threw the bag right in Greed's feet. The homunculus remained there, unable to move, eyes wide open, witnessing Lyra drawing another array around him.

"You really got… bad taste…" he managed to say through clenched teeth.

Lyra didn't bother to say anything. She simply stood up and connected her palms together. At the next moment, blue light surrounded Greed, and the homunculus started writhing in agony and pain. Then retching sounds filled the room, and Greed collapsed on the ground, vomiting red stones that had been his life-force for years untold.

But Lyra didn't concern herself with that. She cast just one glance at Wrath's direction.

"Finish him off."

Wrath didn't need to be told twice. Transmuting a spear from the floor, he walked up to Greed's side.

One swooshing sound later, Greed's head had rolled on the floor; whereas the rest of the body remained lifeless and motionless right where it had fallen. And it was to everyone's grim satisfaction when, seconds later, the body itself vanished, leaving nothing but red pulp.

"It is done," Lyra's voice echoed coldly within the room. "And he won't be missed."

The other homunculi said nothing.

"Envy," Lyra said then. "Do you remember that secret room in the library?"

Envy nodded.

"I have Syndow there. Bring him here at once," she smiled cruelly. "He will serve fine as a scapegoat for a poor old woman's death."

Envy walked out of the room without a word. Five minutes later though, he returned empty-handed.

Lyra stared at him incredulously. "What is this? Where's he?"

"He's not where you put him. The door was open."

Lyra cursed under her breath. "How is that possible?" Her hands clenched into fists and she shook her head. "No matter. Without knowing anyone in this city and no money in his pocket, he's doomed anyway. We can simply hide the body."

"If that's what you want," Envy said. "When do we leave for Liore?"

Lyra smiled. "As soon as possible. We have to meet our destiny, after all."

* * *

Winry was sitting on a chair in a corridor of the hospital, resting her arms on her legs and shoulders slumped forward. Her eyes were focused on nothing in particular, and if anyone had been close enough, they would have probably heard the strange mantra that was flowing out of her lips in a continuous murmur.

"It will be okay…"

It was something she needed to believe in, especially after the attack inside Mr. Curtis' shop and Izumi's resolution to settle the score on her own. And when she saw the couple returning to the hospital in an even worse shape than in the one they left, all she could do was repeat the small prayer with even more determination.

Because then the boys would return safely too.

She didn't find out from Mr. Curtis or Izumi – the couple didn't even have to tell her anything. She had heard everything from the radio and the passer-bys in the corridor. After all, a major raid that involved the police, the military, several alchemists and even animal-like humans was hardly an inconspicuous even, even in a place like Dublith.

So now Winry waited tensely on the chair, hoping that she would hear those familiar metallic footsteps and Ed and Al's apologies for having her worry.

But, so far, the only one that had come through the door was an elderly, limping man, quite dishevelled and emaciated. The thing that really made the man prove a pitiable sight, however, was the desperation with which he was clutching what seemed to be a notebook even in his state of confusion and loss.

"Can I help you?" Winry asked apprehensively, since there was no nurse around presently.

The man actually flinched at the sound of her voice, only to calm down somewhat when he locked his gaze on her.

"I'm… afraid you can't," he said. "I have to make a phone-call."

"The phone is over there," Winry said, pointing to the device on the wall. She searched her pockets dug out some change. "Here, you'll need these."

"Oh yes…" the elderly man said. "Thank you."

"Winry?"

Both man and girl turned around at the sound of the voice. Ed had just entered the door, followed closely behind by Al.

"Did you see Teacher?" Ed asked again.

Winry opened her mouth to speak, but she didn't get the chance to answer. At that moment, the elderly man gasped and looked at both newcomers with a mixture of utter relief and joy.

"It's you! You're exactly as he describes you!"

Ed and Al stared at the man quizzically, certainly taken aback by these words. But the man didn't stop.

"Is Sergeant Beregond with you? Where is he?"

Now all three children thought that was downright suspicious.

"He's not here," Ed finally replied, regarding the man as though ready to fight, bandages or not. "And who are you?"

The elderly man extended his hand, suffering to let go of the notebook for a moment.

"I'm Professor Ronald Syndow. And I'm afraid your friend is in grave trouble."


	35. Bearers Of Ill News

Havoc went up the stairs slowly, leaving a thin trail of smoke behind. In spite of all hopes, he wasn't able to avoid the meeting that was arranged out of the blue. It wasn't a small matter having to talk to Colonel Douglas, the very person that Havoc considered an enemy, after all. What made matters even more suspicious was that she forbade him from talking about this meeting to Colonel Mustang – or anyone else, for that matter.

Under different circumstances, Havoc would have complied with such orders. But now, he had no intentions of following the orders of someone whose actions meant only to harm the country they were supposed to be serving. And so, the first thing Havoc did after Douglas told him of this was to actually _inform_ Mustang.

Truth be told, Havoc had expected Mustang to be taken aback by the news and even worry. Mustang showed no such signs, though. He just told Havoc that it would be foolish if he didn't go that meeting. If anything, it would probably provide them with information about Colonel Douglas' intentions – perhaps even a glimpse on the enemy's plans.

Mustang's train of thought stood to reason, like always. Even so, Havoc still felt like he was marching right into the lion's den.

Havoc stopped in front of the oak door to Douglas' office and looked at it as though it was ready to swallow him whole. However, Havoc knew that there was no turning back now. So he extinguished his cigarette, waved his hand a little to disperse the smoke, and then knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Havoc took a deep breath in an attempt to control the frenzied pounding within his heart. Once he deemed himself ready, he turned the door handle and walked in.

The first thing that Havoc noticed as he entered the room was that it was quite well-lit, contrary to the ominous business that Douglas most certainly had in store for him. Granted, he didn't expect to see black candles, bloodied carcasses and skulls decorating the walls but still… the placed seemed _too _cheerful.

And then he saw Colonel Douglas herself. She was sitting behind her desk, working on some kind of document or other. Whatever it was, Havoc was almost certain that it wasn't anything good for the country of Amestris.

_Damn you…_

But his face betrayed nothing as she directed her gaze at him acknowledging him.

"Ah, Lieutenant Havoc. Quite punctual, I see," she commented without as much as a smile on her lips. "Please, have a seat."

Havoc indulged her. "Thank you, Colonel. You said you wished to see me."

Douglas raised an eyebrow in an intrigued manner. "Straight to business, I see. Don't worry, Lieutenant, I won't keep you for long. However, the matter I wished to talk to you about is rather serious."

"What is the matter about?" Havoc asked.

She didn't answer at once. She simply stood up and reached for a small porcelain tea-pot to pour some hot tea in one of the cups. Havoc didn't know what to make of that action at first, but now he suspected that she was either trying to unnerve him or acting hesitant because the situation was – supposedly – delicate.

If there was one thing Havoc hated, it was hypocrisy. And he could barely keep himself from lashing out now.

"Lieutenant Havoc, how long have you been working under Colonel Mustang?"

Havoc didn't know why Douglas should have to ask that question; nevertheless, he answered.

"Six years."

Douglas nodded slightly before sipping some tea. "What kind of man would you consider him?"

Now Havoc knew that he had to be careful of his answer. One wrong word out of his lips could mean trouble for Mustang.

"A smart man and a brilliant alchemist. A valuable asset to the military, all in all, who always keeps in mind the best interest of this country."

"I see," Douglas said. "Do you work very closely with him, Lieutenant?"

"I'd say so," Havoc replied.

"Close enough to notice any kind of unusual behaviour from his part?"

"I… believe so," Havoc answered again. He regarded Douglas thoughtfully. "Is there a reason for me to notice such kind of behaviour?"

Douglas smiled. "There's no need for such an alarm, Lieutenant Havoc. The reason I'm asking you is because the Führer needs to be certain about the people who work for him. As you may understand, this is not a time to have traitors among us."

_Tell me about it,_ Havoc thought with a mental snort.

"That is why I want you to keep an eye on Colonel Mustang. Observe him, if you must, then report anything worthwhile to Internal Affairs; where he goes, who he interacts with… everything. Is that understood?"

Havoc nodded.

"Good," Douglas said, a small tug of her lips resembling a smile. "That will be all. Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Havoc didn't need to be told twice. He immediately stood up and, after saluting Douglas, he walked out.

Not a moment too soon. The air in there was becoming too stifling for him.

* * *

Ed, Winry and Al were sitting in the room in which Izumi, Mr. Curtis and Mason were placed in order to recover. And yet recovering was the last thing in the couple's mind, or even in their assistant's. For they wanted to hear everyting that shabby-looking old man by the name of Syndow wanted to tell them.

"Let me get this straight," Ed said, still looking at the professor dubiously. "Are you telling me that you've been captive in Dante's house all this time?"

Syndow nodded. "She somehow acquired a copy of your friend's journal, but she couldn't translate it. So she made sure I was brought to her in order to translate the papers for her."

"But how did you escape?" Al asked.

"Something happened today and it was Lyra, Dante's servant, that came to bring me some food. She seemed quite shaken up for some reason and, as she wasn't as cautious or as good an alchemist like her master, she didn't chain me. Even her transmutation that kept me locked was quite weak. I managed to break the seal, and then I jumped through the window outside. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, until I finally arrived here." Syndow sighed, rubbing his weak leg as he did so. "It was a fortunate thing I found you. I was afraid that I would end up in her hands again."

None in the room spoke for some time, taking in what the professor just told them.

In the end, it was Winry who broke the silence.

"How did she come to know about Beregond?" she asked. "And for how long could she have possibly known?"

"For a long while, that much is clear," Al said, eyes dimming slightly in thought. "But what could she want from him?"

"Probably the same thing she wants from us. Or even from the old man," Ed said.

Everyone in the room looked at the young alchemist, and they were all surprised to see him angry.

"Ed, what does your father have to do with this?" Mason asked.

"Everything, apparently," Ed answered. "She sounded pretty interested in finding out of his whereabouts. And then she said that she knew about us, his children. The fact that she's interested in Beregond too shows that she wants something that we _all _have in common. And that can only be one thing."

"Your knowledge in Alchemy," Winry said, catching on.

"Unfortunately," Ed replied.

"Ed, this doesn't make any sense," Al said. "She's a powerful alchemist too; powerful enough to teach _our _teacher. She must have more knowledge than any of us."

"But it's obviously not enough."

It was Izumi who spoke this time, pushing herself to a sitting position with the help of her husband.

"Enough for what though?" Syndow asked, but it was clear from the look on his face that he wasn't going to like the answer.

Izumi sighed and looked at Ed.

"Your train of thought makes sense," she said softly. "However, you missed another important thing you all have in common."

Ed blinked. "What is it?"

"Your wish to find the philosopher's stone."

At those words, there was stunned silence in the room.

"But, Teacher…" Al finally said, "She said she didn't want us to find it."

"No," Ed said, eyes widening. "What she said was that we have to be driven by despair to try and find the philosopher's stone. She wasn't attempting to dissuade us from anything."

"Even if she was, can you actually believe someone who kept a man imprisoned?" Izumi said, regarding Syndow thoughtfully.

Syndow could only agree to that.

"So it looks like we got ourselves a new enemy now," Ed declared grimly. "As if we didn't have enough of them breathing down our necks."

"_Is _she a new one?"

Ed and Al stared at Izumi incredulously.

"What are you saying, Teacher?" Al asked.

"I'm saying that after the way things turned out, I have come to believe that there are no such things as coincidences," Izumi replied. "Do you understand, Ed?"

Ed swallowed hard, but it was clear he understood; he nodded.

"Good," Izumi said. "I will check matters for you here. You, Alphonse, Winry and the professor will have to leave as soon as possible."

The brothers gasped at her words. "But, Teacher…"

"No, Alphonse," the woman said. "I won't have you near her if I can help it. You must go. Follow the Führer's orders if you must, but you _will _leave."

"It's not that, Teacher," Ed said. "We wanted to wait for Beregond, too. He's supposed to meet us here."

"No," Izumi said. "If he comes here, I can send him to you. But you can't stay here anymore." She gritted her teeth menacingly. "I'll make sure I get out of here by tomorrow morning and put you on the next train for Central myself if I must."

Now both brothers knew that when their teacher put things that way, there was no room for arguing. So all they could do was nod their acknowledgement and stand up.

"Are you coming too, Winry?" Al asked, turning in the girl's direction.

"No," Winry answered. "I'll stay here just in case I'm needed her." She smiled a bit when she noticed Al's body tensing. "I'll be fine."

That sounded like enough reassurance for Ed and Al. And so, in the end, they simply waved goodbye to everyone and walked out of the room.

* * *

Edward and Alphonse still walked down on the street in silence, hardly looking at each other.

In the end, it was Al who spoke first.

"Brother?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Ed faced the suit of armour. "Yeah, Al?"

"What did Teacher mean by: 'There're no such things as coincidences'?"

Ed sighed. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to talk about it, but now it would seem he had no choice.

"She meant exactly that," he said.

"Brother-"

"Just listen to me for a moment, Al," Ed interrupted. "The homunculi are after us because they know we're looking for a way to create a philosopher's stone. And yet they also admitted that they were following someone else's orders. Doesn't it make sense that they take orders from someone powerful enough to control them and even keep them in check if necessary?"

"Someone powerful like Dante?" Al asked then.

"Exactly," Ed said.

It was a good thing that Al was in a suit of armour, for he would have shuddered at that moment. "It looks like everyone wants to use us."

Ed didn't say anything. He just placed his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

And then Al spoke again.

"You know… There's something bothering me in all this. Greed said that Envy and Lust were his enemies and he'd rather avoid them." He looked at Ed. "Brother, if what you say about Dante is true, she had ever reason to send the other homunculi after Greed. But she never did."

"She probably didn't want to make their presence known while we were around. However, she managed to send someone after Greed."

Al tensed. "Who?"

"The Führer. According to Major Armstrong, they were informed about Devil's Nest thanks to an anonymous tip. That was a bit too convenient, if you ask me."

"So she made sure everyone was disposed of, and she used the military for it," Al concluded. The suit of armour shook his head ruefully. "Do you think she has someone working for her in the military ranks?"

Ed shrugged. "Maybe. That would explain why she had such easy access to Lab 5. And there's something else." He kicked an invisible stone. "The boy was supposed to be held captive in Devil's Nest with you, Al. But he wasn't rescued. In fact, no one's seen him."

Al's eyes widened. "You think she somehow took him?"

"Right now, we can't leave anything to chance," Ed answered. "One thing's for sure, though: she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to get her hands on a homunculus who can perform alchemy."

Al had to admit that his brother had a point.

"I guess that explains why Teacher wants us to leave Dublith."

"Yeah," Ed said, sighing.

"But… if Dante can't use us, she'll use someone else. Shouldn't we try to stop her?" Al asked.

"We would if we knew who she wants to use next," Ed said. "Right now, your guess is as good as mine."

The brothers didn't speak again, because it was then that they reached Izumi's home.

However, they were taken aback to see that the lights were on. And, what was worse, they could easily discern a form moving about inside.

They didn't lose any time. Setting themselves ready for a fight, they immediately rushed forward to catch the intruder by surprise.

They froze in their tracks when they saw Beregond standing in the main hall, looking at them as though they had gone mad.

But it wasn't _that_ that made Ed pale and stare at the Gondorian in horror.

It was the man's hair.

Beregond shifted uncomfortably and ran his hand through the dark strands.

"Do I look so bad with my hair short?"

* * *

Later that night, Ed, Al and Beregond were sitting around a table in the kitchen. None of them spoke for the present, since Edward and the Gondorian wanted to finish with their meal first.

To say they were hungry, it would have been an understatement.

"I don't remember ever needing it more," Beregond said in the end, pushing the now empty plate away from him. He shifted on his chair, slightly wincing as he did so. "Then again, I don't remember the last I've ridden so far in such a short time."

"But why the horse?" Al asked, not really understanding. "I mean, I know you don't like the train, but you can still travel on it."

"But not all the way," Beregond answered with a shake of his head. "Most itineraries have been cancelled because of the uprising in Liore. They're using the trains to send soldiers there. So I went by train as far as I could and I rode the rest of the way."

"That means you've found the Ishbalans," Ed said.

Beregond nodded.

"Did they do that?"

The Gondorian's hands touched the sticking plaster on his neck. "No, that was Lust. My presence among the Ishbalans was… an inconvenience to her," Beregond explained. At the moment, his eyes, locked on Ed's own bandaged form. "But, apparently, I wasn't the only who came across trouble."

"Trouble hardly cuts it," Ed said dryly. And with that, he started telling everything that happened to him and Al after Izumi grabbed both her students from that hotel in Rush Valley – barely a few days ago and yet seeming so far back in time. Beregond listened patiently, taking in everything that the teen alchemist told him without as much as a word escaping his lips. His eyes widened when he heard about the young homunculus and his expression saddened when Edward and Alphonse told him about the massacre in the Devil's Nest.

However, he was utterly shocked when Ed informed him about Syndow and Dante's involvement in the matter.

"_Ai, Valar,_" the Gondorian breathed out.

"Beregond?" Al asked.

The man swallowed hard. "When Lust attacked me, she mentioned that their master was a woman. That by itself meant nothing, but now…" Beregond rubbed his forehead. "It seems their claws are closed more tightly around us than I thought."

"Yeah," Ed said. "At least we're onto her now, so she can't force us to do anything."

"She doesn't have to," Beregond said quietly. "There's already another candidate."

The brothers tensed at those words, and they looked at Beregond apprehensively. "Who?"

"Scar. He's on his way to Liore to create the philosopher's stone."

Ed and Al gasped.

"You mean… he knows how to make one?" Al faltered.

Beregond nodded. "It was all written in the Ishbalan's ancient records. And the method isn't all that different from what Dûrinas had used."

"Which was?" Ed asked.

Beregond took out from his overcoat his journal and opened it on one of the most recently written pages before showing it to the boys.

Ed and Al couldn't understand the letters, but they understood perfectly well the transmutation circle that Beregond had drawn.

"The circle doesn't make a stone, per se," Beregond explained. "When someone is slain on it, it manages to entrap the life-force within the victim, separating it from the blood as it flows out. A powerful enough alchemist can unleash that life-force and place it within his own body, making himself the container."

"So, basically, this is a way to make _yourself _a philosopher's stone," Al said.

Beregond nodded.

"And Scar is heading to Liore to do exactly that," Ed noted in dismay. "If Dante doesn't know about it yet, she will soon enough. And she will head there too."

"And what about the people in Liore?" Al said, twitching his hands nervously. "Scar is going to kill them if we don't do something."

"It's not going to come down to that," Ed declared, his jaw clenching tightly.

"Then we're leaving?" Beregond said.

It wasn't a question.

Ed nodded. "The Führer ordered us to go to Central to report for duty. Now we have one more reason to do so. We'll be leaving as soon as possible."

Beregond and Al's looks was enough sign that they agreed whole-heartedly.

* * *

Though he was lying on a bed, Al was certainly not sleeping. And even if he wasn't just a soul in a suit of armour, Al doubted that he would have been able to sleep anyway. It wasn't possible after all the things that happened just a few hours ago.

The sound of rustling sheets made him turn around to look at Ed. The bright moonlight shone brilliantly on his brother's form, and so Al could see that Edward was restless.

And that he was also wide awake.

"What's wrong, Brother?" Al asked softly.

Ed didn't answer at once. He turned his back to Al and sighed. "It's nothing."

But Al wasn't convinced.

"It has to do with Beregond, doesn't it?" the suit of armour asked. "You think we should have told him about Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?"

Ed shook his head. "If we told, then he'd tell Winry. And we've already agreed she shouldn't know yet."

"Then it's something else," Al concluded. "I saw that look in your eyes when you saw him. It appeared for a moment as if…" He paused momentarily, for Al was unsure about his next choice of words. "… as if you didn't know who he was."

"I didn't recognise him with short hair, Al; that's all," Ed replied.

Al shook his head. It was typical of Ed to avoid answering the question.

"Brother, look at me."

The firm tone worked. Ed turned around and looked at Al in mild surprise.

"Six years ago we made a decision to bring back our Mother. We failed. And because of our failure, we probably created something that only resembles our mother; whereas we gave up part of ourselves for nothing.

"That was why we made a new decision: to correct our mistakes in any way possible. You became a dog of the military and I followed you through thick and thin. And when we found out about the philosopher's stone, I was the first to tell you we should look for it. And we haven't stopped since, in spite of all the obstacles we encountered."

"Al, what is your point?" Ed asked.

Alphonse regarded his brother with a bittersweet expression reflected in his eyes.

"I'm saying that you don't have to protect me all the time. Your silence isn't a shelter; it can hurt me, too. You should have known that by now."

Ed actually flinched at those words. But Al didn't mean to back down just yet.

"So… will you tell me what's wrong?"

Once again, Ed hesitated. Still, Al could tell that his brother was contemplating matters, and that was an encouraging thought.

However, he never expected Ed to sit up and hug his knees, nor that he would stubbornly look ahead as he said in barely a whisper:

"He looked like someone else."

Al cocked his head. "You mean Beregond?"

Ed nodded.

To say that Al felt puzzled by that answer would have been an understatement. "Who?"

"That's just it, Al. I don't know," Edward answered with a sigh. "All I have is this stupid dream where I see someone who looks just like Beregond unconscious on the couch of our home, while Mom and the old man try to wake him up."

If Al could have swallowed hard, he would have.

"Brother, Beregond's not a homunculus. You know that, right?"

Ed surprised Al again by chuckling softly.

"Of course I do, Al. It's just that… it makes me wonder something."

"What?" Al asked.

Ed turned to Al and finally looked at him in the eyes.

"It makes me wonder if meeting Beregond was really pure coincidence or… something else."

Al didn't know what to answer to that, truth be told; he hadn't thought of things that way before.

And so, there was only one thing to say.

"Maybe you'll know for sure if you find out who that other person was."

Ed pursed his lips and lied down again.

"Maybe." He closed his eyes and curled to his side. "We'll ask Aunt Pinako at first chance."

"Yeah…"

And with that, the older brother drifted to the land of dreams, whereas the younger remained gazing out the window, alone with his thoughts. He barely moved from his spot until dawn, when he woke up Ed so that he could have some breakfast. After all, their journey back to Central would be a long one.

Ed woke up without much fuss. He got dressed and both brothers went to the kitchen. They didn't expect Beregond to be already there and preparing some breakfast – even milk – for Edward; nevertheless, it was a welcome treat.

They had hardly sat down in order to discuss their plans for today, however, when an angry shout practically reverberated through the entire house.

"WHY IS THERE A HORSE CHEWING ON MY LAWN?"

Both brothers and Beregond froze and looked at each other.

"I take it that _that_… is your teacher?" Beregond asked slowly.

"Yes," Ed and Al answered in unison, looking quite mortified.

Beregond swallowed hard.

"Oh, dear…"

* * *

The day was quiet in Liore for a change. However, the locals were aware that that didn't mean anything; the fighting could start again at any moment. All the military needed was one good reason for it.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop a dark-skinned man with an x-shaped scar on his forehead to stay focused on a strange task. He was dragging a large rock without stop, making sure that a deep trail was left behind.

And yet no one seemed to pay attention to what Scar was doing. They were looking up at the sky, where a hot-air balloon was soaring in the air.

They didn't know why it was up there, but they were somehow aware that it wasn't up to any good.


	36. The Flame Alchemist

It seemed like a peaceful morning in Central. The sun was pleasantly warm, the almond trees were blossomed, and the sound of birds could be heard even above the cars that were circulating the streets at that time of day.

In Central Headquarters, however, four soldiers were talking in quite the agitated manner.

"Mustang's surveillance log?" Falman wondered, examining the blue notebook that Havoc had given him only minutes ago. "What's this about?"

"Beats me," Havoc answered, shrugging his shoulders. "I got orders from Douglas to keep an eye on the colonel. Something about assisting her on an investigation concerning the colonel's activities."

Breda crossed his arms. "It makes sense. The colonel is close to the brass right now, so Douglas wants to make sure he can be trusted not to cause trouble."

"You don't think she suspects something, do you?" Fuery asked worriedly.

"No, it sounds more like a typical procedure than anything else," Falman answered, waving his hand dismissively.

"Either that, or they noticed the colonel's mysterious outings to see you-know-who," Breda said.

"I guess. It's still spying on him, though," Fuery noted.

"Yeah…" Havoc said, exhaling a puff of smoke. "So… do you guys have any idea how to deal with this?"

Breda, Falman and Fuery exchanged a glance in thought, clearly contemplating matters.

Suddenly, Breda's features seemed to light up, and a curious smile tugged on his lips.

"I've got an idea."

* * *

Sarah was at her house, and she wasn't along in her living room. She passed a cup of tea to Sieszka; then sat down on the couch across the girl. The woman could tell that Scieszka was nervous for a reason, but she couldn't understand what kind of reason it could be.

"So," Sarah said, regarding Scieszka in a curious manner. "You said you wanted to tell me something important. What is it?"

"Um… well," Scieszka faltered, "It's about what Lieutenant Colonel… oh, I mean… what Brigadier General Hughes was investigating."

"I guessed as much," Sarah noted with a small nod. "Go on."

"Well… You told me that you tried to find the files concerning Lab 5, Ishbal and Douglas, but they were all gone, right?"

"I'm afraid so," Sarah said. "Did you manage to make copies of them from memory, at least?"

"Oh, yes, without a problem," Scieszka replied. "But, as I was making the copies, I decided to make an investigation of my own concerning the name Douglas."

"Indeed?" Sarah put her cup on the saucser and looked at Scieszka intrigued. "And what did you find?"

Scieszka wrung her fingers nervously for a moment before opening her bag to get out a couple of photos. "Take a look," she said, giving them to Sarah.

Sarah did. She was mildly surprised to see that they were pictures of two tombstones with the name Juliette Douglas engraved on both of them.

However, it wasn't _that _that made her stare at the tombstones in shock.

It was the dates on them.

"That can't be right," she said before she could help it. "I thought there was only _one _Juliette Douglas and she died two years prior the war in Ishbal. But according to this there are two of them – and the one died twenty years before the other."

Scieszka nodded. "And it appears several times even before that."

"So the name is used repeatedly to cover up every sort of suspicious activity in the military," Sarah concluded. She still stared at the photos incredulously, unable to believe the horrifying truth that was now being revealed before her. "Scieszka… do you realise what that means?"

"Yes," Scieszka said. "And the thought terrifies me." She flinched involuntarily, looking around her as though the very walls would come crushing down on her.

Sarah understood the girl only too well, for she felt the same way now.

"Scieszka… I want you to listen to me very carefully," she finally said. "I'll tell our friends what you told me. But you mustn't say of this to anyone else. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Scieszka said. She stood up and bowed slightly. "And thank you."

Sarah raised an eyebrow in mild curiosity. "For what?"

Scieszka blushed a bit. "For giving me the chance to help in any way I can. I know that Lieut… I mean… Brigadier General Hughes will finally rest now."

"I wouldn't count on it," Sarah murmured under her breath.

"What?" Scieszka asked, not really catching that last part.

"Nothing!" Sarah replied with quite an innocent smile tugged on her lips. "I said: 'Count on it.'"

"Oh." Scieszka opened the door and stepped out. "Well, goodbye for now."

"Goodbye," Sarah said. "And drop by Gracia's sometime."

"I will."

And with that, Sarah closed the door. At the next moment, she rested her forehead against the wooden surface, letting out a sigh.

_Things couldn't get any worse._

The sound of hesitant footsteps coming from the other room made her turn around in time to see Maes appear on the doorway.

"So you've heard?" she simply asked.

Maes nodded. "We have to tell Roy."

"I'll look into it," Sarah said. "How are you feeling?"

Maes shrugged. "Stronger. But I still feel dizzy if I stand for too long."

Sarah's lips tugged to a small teasing smile. "Then don't stand for too long," she said, and then got ready to walk out.

She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Maes's expression of disappointment on the man's features.

"What?" she asked.

"It's just…" Maes sighed. "I had promised Roy that I would constantly work under him and help him on the way to the top. But I can't help feeling that I'm nothing more than a dead weight now, watching from a distance while Roy and everyone else are trying to save this country."

Sarah shook her head. "I don't know him as long as you or his subordinates do, but I can tell you this. I doubt Colonel Mustang forgot your promise." She looked at Maes kindly. "In fact, if you ask me... I think he's waiting for you. So you'd better catch up fast."

And with that, Sarah walked out, letting Maes consider her words while she was gone.

* * *

When Riza Hawkeye arrived at the office with Hayate following close to her heels, she was certainly surprised to see that Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery were already there. Moreover, all four officers seemed focused on writing on a journal, but Riza couldn't for the life of her understand what it was they were working on.

And their conversation didn't make much sense either.

"Okay, guys. What have we got?" Breda asked.

"Oh, wait; I'll start. Saturday 09:46 hours: With papers waiting for his approval and signed by noon, the colonel decided to take a nap instead," Falman said.

The other three soldiers laughed and nodded their approval.

"My turn now," Breda declared. "10:26 hours: The colonel attempted to feed Lieutenant Hawkeye's dog. The dog wasn't biting."

Fuery frowned. "_I _had written something about Hayate."

"Oh," Breda said.

"Well, think of something else," Havoc said. "What else would the colonel be doing?"

The sergeant major straightened his glasses for a moment; then his face seemed to light up as he apparently came up with an idea.

"How about this? At 11:03 hours, he started obsessively cleaning the windows, with still no progress on those papers, with the deadline on fast approach."

"Good, it works with what _I _had in mind," Havoc said with a grin, jotting down everything excitedly. "Then, at 11:47 hours, the colonel began to furiously sign the papers, all the while cursing that he didn't have time for this."

"Perfect!" Breda and Falman said, giving Havoc the thumbs-up.

That, Riza supposed, was her cue to walk into Roy Mustang's office and leave the others to their fooling around.

As Riza expected, the colonel was in his office, but he was far from idle. In fact, he was examining a piece of document quite carefully, a frown of concentration furrowed on his features.

"Sir?" Riza asked.

But Roy raised his hand, thus signifying that she should wait for a while. Riza nodded her acknowledgement and remained at attention, waiting patiently for Roy to finish. She knew that, when the colonel was so interested in a document, it meant the document was very, very important.

Several minutes passed, and silence still reigned in the room. Finally, Roy put the document down and beckoned the woman to come closer.

"Yes, Sir?" Riza asked.

"Take a look at this," Roy said, his expression now unreadable. "Dr. Knox gave it to me today."

Riza understood what that implied, of course; so she picked up the file and read it thoroughly.

"It looks like your suspicions were correct," she said thoughtfully. "A woman by the name of Juliette Douglas did die two years before the war in Ishbal broke out."

"Yes," Roy said. "It's the proof we needed to verify that the Führer's secretary isn't who she claims to be." He smiled. "Once we define our enemies and allies within Central Headquarters, we will be able to lay our trap."

However, Riza didn't share his optimism. "I would have agreed with you, Sir, but I'm afraid something's come up that you're not aware of yet."

Roy looked at her in mild surprise, certainly not expecting that. "What is it?"

"Ms Abbot came to find me at my home when I was about to come here. She had some interesting piece of news of her own. It would seem that Scieszka, Brigadier General Hughes' secretary, has made a discovery of her own." And with that, Riza said about the multiple times that the name Juliette Douglas cropped up during military history.

At this news, Roy clenched his jaw in dismay. "Damn it," he murmured. "Hughes got it wrong… The military isn't in danger; the military itself is dangerous. And whoever is behind this conspiracy, they have been pulling the strings for a long time."

"The question now is: who can have such power," Riza noted.

"That we will have to find out while we try to remain alive," Roy answered grimly.

"So it is official?" Riza asked, understanding what the man meant.

Roy nodded. "We'll leave for Liore the day after Fullmetal, Alphonse and Sergeant Beregond arrive in Central."

* * *

There weren't all that many passengers from Dublith on their way to Central on that particular morning. In fact, most of the compartments were empty, offering the few people that were travelling at this time of day a certain sense of privacy.

That was precisely what three alchemists, an automail engineer and a professor wanted.

Winry caught sight of Beregond a couple of seats away from her, so she walked up to him. The man was sitting with his arms crossed, his head slightly bowed and his expression quite thoughtful. Professor Syndow was lying on the seat across from the Gondorian, fast asleep.

Winry regarded Beregond curiously. He just lifted his gaze and smiled.

"He went through a lot," he said in a low tone; he didn't want to disturb the professor's sleep.

Winry nodded her understanding and sat beside the Gondorian. "How are you feeling?" she asked in mild concern.

"Slightly dizzy, but nothing I can't handle," Beregond answered truthfully. "I'm actually getting the hang of it."

Winry couldn't help it; she laughed a bit. "Next thing you know, you'll be driving."

Beregond shook his head. "I doubt it," he declared. "Faenel is more than enough for me."

"I suppose," Winry said. "But it's hard to have her on the train, isn't it?"

"She will be fine," Beregond answered. "There are other horses back there, so she won't be lonely."

"Oh."

"Neither man nor girl spoke for some time, letting the sound of the wheels fill the atmosphere. That is, until Beregond noticed that Winry was holding something in her hands.

It looked like a screwdriver.

"Did Al give you that?" he asked.

Winry held up the screwdriver and nodded. "He said he meant to give it to me for some time now. But how did you know?"

"He saw it in a shop in Rush Valley while we were wandering around" Beregond replied. "I'm surprised it managed to stay in one piece after all that happened, though."

At that, Winry sighed. "Yeah." She put the screwdriver in her pocket and then faced Beregond agin. "That's what I meant to talk to you about actually."

"Really?" Beregond looked at Winry in surprise, obviously unsure what to make of that statement.

She nodded. "You saw the bandages on Ed, as well as Al's armour; they both have been beaten in several places," she said. "And if Dante ever means to send the Homunculi after them… I'm afraid they won't be able to fight back. Not unless they become stronger."

"You want them to have a better fighting chance," Beregond deduced.

"Yes. That's why I want to ask you a favour."

It was then that Beregond caught on, for his lips tugged to a knowing half-smile.

"I'm listening," he said.

* * *

When Al found Ed, the suit of armour was surprised to see that his brother was reading his journal and writing something down on another piece of paper.

"Brother? What are you doing?"

Ed sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Do you remember that small excerpt Major Armstrong told us to copy from his book?"

Al nodded. "What about it?"

"Well, the way it is written now, it certainly doesn't make any sense. But what if it's written in some sort of code?"

"I've thought of that, too," Al said. "But it must be a very old one; probably based on even older writings."

"Yeah," Ed agreed. "It looks like something out of Beregond's world, to be exact."

Al cocked his head. "So you think there's a connection?"

"Maybe," Ed said with a shrug. "But I don't think Beregond would be able to help. Everything seems so vague that the excerpt could mean anything."

"What if you're reading it out of context?" Al asked thoughtfully. "If you could read the whole book, then you would be able to understand what the excerpt is about."

Ed frowned as he considered what Al just told him. "I think you're right. But I can't just ask the Major to give me the book so I can read it. Not to mention that it would take me at least a whole week to read it, and I wouldn't remember half of it afterwards." He froze, because it was then that the thought occurred to him. "Unless…"

"Brother?"

Ed faced Al. "The Major has left with the Führer and Lieutenant Colonel Archer earlier than us, right?"

"Yeah. According to the radio, they left with the midnight train," Al said. "Why?"

"I've just thought of something," Ed answered and headed towards the first compartment, where he knew there was a telephone.

He certainly didn't expect to see Beregond stepping out of the particular booth.

"Hey," Ed said, startled. "What were you doing?"

Beregond smiled. "I just called Syndow's son about his father. He'll come in Central to pick up the professor."

"Oh." However, it still seemed strange to Ed. "We could put the professor in one of the trains heading for East City. His son doesn't have to go through all that trouble."

"Yes, he does," Beregond said.

Now Ed was downright confused. "Why?"

"Winry's orders." And with that, the man headed back to his seat.

Ed finally decided that it was of no use trying to understand what Beregond and Winry were up to. So, he simply shrugged and entered the booth to dial Scieszka's number.


	37. True Colours

"Are we done with these, Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Roy asked as he read one final report that the woman had handed him earlier on.

"Yes, sir," Riza simply replied.

"Good. You can pass them to Havoc and-"

Roy never finished his sentence, because it was then that both soldiers heard a knock on the door. Frowning since he wasn't expecting anyone, Roy nonetheless called out: "Enter!"

It turned out to be Fuery, who stepped in the office and saluted cordially. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Sir, but you're requested in Major Armstrong's office."

_Ah… so the expedition in the southern part has ended,_ Roy thought. "Do you have any idea what it is about?"

"None whatsoever, Sir," Fuery said with a shake of his head. "But it seemed important."

"It never is anything less than that, Fuery," Roy declared dryly before standing up and heading out the door. A few moments later, Roy reached Armstrong's office and entered.

Armstrong was sitting on his desk, just like Roy had expected. However, Roy tried to hide his surprise when he saw Archer there, especially when he noticed the insignia of Colonel on the man's shoulder. And, to Roy's intrigue, there was someone else in the room as well; someone who, for whatever reason, hid his face behind a mask.

"Ah, Colonel Mustang," Archer said, smiling in a pleased manner. "I'm glad you came at such short notice."

"May I ask what this is about… _Colonel _Archer?" Roy asked, keeping his expression neutral.

Archer placed his hands behind his back. "I believe you're to leave for Liore soon, is that correct?"

"Yes," Roy answered. "When Fullmetal returns to Central, in fact."

"I see," Archer said. He didn't speak again for some time, as though contemplating on how to approach a delicate matter. Though that hat seemed to Roy very suspicious, he said nothing.

"Liore has become quite dangerous, Colonel Mustang," Archer finally said. "The locals have been fighting back, and we're losing more men than expected. As you realise, we need men that are more than capable of dealing with that kind of situation."

"State Alchemists are more than able," Roy pointed out. "That's why they have been used repeatedly in the past."

"Yes," Archer admitted. "However, perhaps you will appreciate the extra hand."

"Extra hand?" Roy asked, not really understanding.

"Oh, does that mean I can take this off now?" the masked man asked, his tone sounding amused.

"Go right ahead," Archer replied.

The masked man didn't need to be told twice. He removed the mask with a smile and tossed it on the desk.

"That's better," he said, turning his gaze to Roy. "It's good to see you again, Flame Major… No wait. It's Colonel now, isn't it?"

Roy could only stare dumbly at the face that was revealed, for it belonged to none other than…

"The Crimson Alchemist?" Yes, Roy knew the man only too well from back at the Ishbal days, and he despised him with all the strength of his heart. Even now, he could recall the dozen times that Kimblee used his explosive alchemy out of sheer pleasure not just to enemies, but on Amestrian soldiers as well. "Archer, what is going on here?"

Archer raised an eyebrow and looked at Roy curiously. "Do you have a problem with Lieutenant Colonel Zolf J. Kimblee?"

Now _that _was downright unbelievable. "Lieutenant Colonel?"

Archer nodded. "The lieutenant colonel was imprisoned unfairly for crimes he didn't commit, but he managed to escape before he was used for the illegal experiments in Lab 5," he explained. "It's thanks to his testimony that the mystery around the laboratory is currenly being solved."

"Unfairly?" Roy could only echo. This couldn't be happening; it was a bad joke. "How can that be?"

"As you have already noticed, Colonel Mustang, the Führer has granted me the rank of Colonel. And, since we're at it, I should also inform you that he's also granted me full authority of the operation in Liore. That means I can choose for this mission whoever I see fit and, if you object to me, you object to the Führer's wishes too," Archer declared. "Is that understood, Flame Alchemist?"

Roy cursed mentally, because he realised that those promotions meant something else as well. The Führer was slowly showing his true colours.

Still, that was something that he couldn't say out loud. So he just nodded and said, "Yes, Sir."

Archer smiled once more. "Good. I knew I could depend on your cooperation. That will be all."

With that, Archer and Kimblee walked out without bothering to look back. The first one who spoke after the door clicked shut was Armstrong, the one soldier who had remained quiet throughout the whole conversation.

"You look as though you've lost some weight."

Roy faced the major in an unwavering gaze. "_You_ look as though you got caught in a fight," he replied, nodding at the sticking plaster on the burly man's forehead.

"It's just a scratch. We came across trouble in Dublith," Armstrong said, waving his hand dismissively. "I also met the Elric Brothers there."

"Oh?"

Armstrong hummed his affirmative. "Edward's planning on continuing as a dog of the military," he added softly.

Roy sat down in a weary manner. "You're thinking what I'm thinking."

Armstrong's fists clenched into fists. "Has time really run out on him? Is he to cover his hands in blood before restoring his body?"

Roy sighed. "Fullmetal joined the military fully aware that there was a risk he'd be used as a weapon. For better or for worse, there can be no exceptions."

Armstrong's gaze locked on Roy's. "Is that your official stance?"

Roy answered with a question of his own. "Do you want to defy the military law?"

"I don't defy anything," Armstrong replied tensely. "I just want to be sure that I use my strength to protect the innocent."

"And you will," Roy said with a small smile. "There's something you should know, Major."

Something in Roy's tone probably told Armstrong that the matter wasimportant, for he leaned forward, looking at Roy intently.

"What is it?"

That was all the motivation Roy needed in order to start talking.

* * *

Beregond returned to his seat and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, when he sensed the professor stirring from his slumber. He turned his gaze to Syndow, seeing that the man was, indeed, waking up.

Syndow blinked blearily at first, obviously trying to figure out where he was. Finally, he turned to Beregond, looking at him in a quizzical manner.

"How long have I been out?" he asked.

"About a couple of hours. We'll be approaching Rush Valley soon," Beregond replied. "How are you feeling, Professor?"

"Much stronger now," Syndow said. "Although I'll feel better once I'm back home."

"I understand," the Gondorian said with a nod. "Nevertheless, I should get you something to eat. By the look of things, you were treated unceremoniously."

Syndow checked himself, realising that Beregond was talking about his emaciated condition. He waved his hand dismissively. "It's of no importance. I didn't much care for her food anyway."

Though Beregond accepted the professor's attempt at humour gracefully, there was something that he considered quite troubling. Now it felt like the right moment to just go ahead and ask it.

"Professor, Edward and Alphonse told me that Dante wanted you to translate my journal for her."

Syndow winced and nodded. "Indeed, I said that."

"But… could you pull that kind of thing?"

"I already have."

Beregond's shock must have been evident, because Syndow shook his head at. "Be at ease. I have the translation here," he said, patting the inside of his tattered overcoat. "She never saw it. Although… I'm afraid she didn't have to either."

Beregond eyed the professor intently. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she knows about your world, Sergeant. She even had the smugness to come tell me herself."

The Gondorian felt like his heart missed a beat. "How did she find out?"

"I don't know, but I can tell you one thing. Her reaction to that kind of revelation was strange," Syndow said. "She didn't seem surprised in the least. In fact, she talked about your world as though it was the most natural thing in the world."

"Or as though she had been aware of its existence all along," Beregond noted.

Syndow hummed on the affirmative. "I suppose all she needed was proof of it."

"That she got with my presence here," the Gondorian completed, rubbing his eyes in a tired manner. "I should have seen it coming from the symbol of the _amlug _on thehomunculi. As instruments of evil, they could only be branded as such by someone who knew the significance of the symbol… or someone who had a sick sense of humour."

"It appears so," Syndow agreed quietly. "Your identity can no longer be considered secret."

"No," Beregond said. He sighed and locked his gaze out the window. "Did you tell the boys any of this?"

Syndow shook his head.

"Good. Keep it that way."

Syndow stared at Beregond in disbelief. "Why?"

Beregond's lips tugged to a small, warm smile. "I've come to know Ed and Al only too well," he said. "If they find out about this, they'll try to protect me. I don't want that."

Syndow finally caught on. "You don't want them to face her."

Beregond just nodded.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Major Armstrong was returning to his residence, and he wasn't alone. Warrant Officer Falman was with him, so that Armstrong could hear about the last details of Roy's conspiracy against the realenemies of the State.

"When can I see Brigadier General Hughes?" Armstrong asked curiously.

Falman shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not possible just yet. Hughes has to remain hidden, or the enemy will realise what game we're playing."

"And is this Mrs Abbot worthy of our trust?"

"Havoc vouches for her, as well as Brigadier General Hughes," Falamn answered "The Colonel seems to trust her too, and that's enough for me."

"Good," Armstrong said. "We'll need every trustworthy person we can get."

Just then, a woman's voice sounded to their left. "Excuse me…"

Both soldiers turned around, and they both smiled in a friendly manner when they saw it was Scieszka. Armstrong knew her from the time that she was still working as secretary to Maes, while Falman met her back at Maes's 'funeral'.

"Ms Scieszka? That's a pleasant surprise," Falman said.

"Indeed, it is. I hope you're well, Warrant Officer," the girl said with a smile before turning to Armstrong. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I was actually on my way to your house, Major Armstrong. Ed was interested in a book you have in your library, and he was hoping that I could read it so as to make a copy of it afterwards. Is that okay?"

Armstrong's smile broadened tenfold and his chest seemed to swell with pride. "Of course! The thirst for knowledge is a commendable trait, strengthening the mind and expanding it to new horizons! The Armstrong family has known this for generations!"

Falman and Scieszka could swear they could see Armstrong's sparkly aura brightening at this. They both exchanged a brief glance of embarrassment; then Falman decided to take matters in his own hands.

"Ah… Major… perhaps we should continue on then? Ms Scieszka will need the book in order to expand her horizons, after all."

"Hm?" Armstrong didn't catch up at once, since he was too engrossed in his speech. "Yes, indeed. This way, Ms Scieszka."

And with that, Armstrong guided both Falman and Scieszka to the Armstrong mansion. Scieszka could only mouth a small 'thank you' in Falman's direction, something that made the warrant officer smile.

* * *

Late at night, there was light in the Führer's office. After all, there was no rest for the wicked, and Pride and Sloth had a lot of things to take care of.

"I don't understand, Sir," the Brigadier General that was now standing in attention in front of Bradley. "You're going to the front lines of Liore?"

Bradley nodded. "I can't let Liore turn to a new Ishbal. We must put an end to it quickly and with as few casualties as possible."

"O-of course, but…"

"There is no but, Brigadier General Hakuro," Bradley said, waving his hand dismissively. "Colonel Douglas will be escorting me this time, so you'll have to keep everything in charge here. I'm counting on you. Is that clear?"

Brigadier General Hakuro could only stare at Bradley for many long moments, until in the end he saluted. "Yes, Sir!"

"Good," Bradley said, his lips tugging to a half-smile. "That will be all."

Brigadier General Hakuro nodded and bowed his head respectfully before turning on his heel to walk out. Apparently, though, Bradley wanted to say one last thing.

"Brigadier General Hakuro?"

The Brigadier General turned around and looked at the Führer quizzically. "Yes, Sir?"

"I would be much obliged if you sent something to my wife and son for me. I don't want them to feel lonely."

"Understood, Sir." With that, the Brigadier General walked out.

That gave Bradley the opportunity to talk to Sloth without any interruptions.

"Well? What news?"

"Everything was quiet while you were away," the female homunculus answered. "However, there is something worth noting about Colonel Mustang."

"Oh? What is it?" Bradley asked.

"There is hardly any progress in his search for the murderer of Brigadier General Hughes. Odd, since Mustang considered him such a good friend and wished to see the murderer arrested."

"The scent probably became too cold for that dog," Bradley said. "It is of no importance."

"But the other matter is," Sloth said. "His men are loyal to him – too loyal. They even go as far as to being reluctant to hand out any information concerning their commander."

Bradley knitted his fingers and shook his head. "Yes, he's becoming far too popular. That could pose a problem. But," and at that his expression became cruelly calculating, "a lot of things can happen in a war."

Sloth understood perfectly well what Pride was implying. "When do we leave for Liore?"

"Tomorrow," Bradley answered.

Sloth regarded Pride intently. "So… the pieces of the board have finally taken their positions."

Bradley nodded. "And all we need now is a checkmate."

Sloth's lips quirked to a wan, yet visible smile.

TBC...


	38. Markings On The Ground

"Attention, everyone. We've just arrived at Central Station. Please, proceed to the exits in orderly fashion."

All the passengers in the train complied with the conductor's instructions without much fuss and, soon enough, everyone mingled with the crowd inside the station.

"Well, we're here," Edward said with a small sigh. "I never thought we'd be back so soon."

"Yeah," Al said, and turned to his brother. "Who do you think we should report to?"

"I don't know, Al," Ed replied, shrugging. "We'll just have to go to Headquarters and see."

A small cough sounded to the brothers' left. "Yes… about that…"

Ed and Al stared at Beregond in surprise, because it was indeed the Gondorian who had spoken up.

"What is it?" Ed asked curiously.

"I'm afraid I can't join you just yet. Someone has to escort Winry and Professor Syndow to some comfortable quarters."

"That's right," Winry seconded. "And, besides, I need him for a small errand."

"I hope your errand doesn't involve him carrying your luggage," Ed muttered under his breath. Still, the teen had to admit to himself that Beregond and Winry had a point, so he nodded at the next moment. "Okay, fine. Meet us at Headquarters as soon as Winry and the professor are settled."

"Of course," Beregond replied, a very peculiar smile on his lips. "Till later."

"Just a moment," Syndow said at that moment.

Ed and Al looked at the professor, certainly not expecting him to extend his hand toward them.

"Thank you… for everything."

Al rubbed the back of his head in an embarrassed manner at those words, while Ed extended his automail hand and completed the handshake.

"Don't mention it, Professor. I hope we'll see you again soon."

"Perhaps you will," Syndow said with a smile.

With that, Syndow, Winry and Beregond turned on their heels and headed towards one of the many exits in the station.

Surprisingly, Al let out a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong, Al?" Ed asked, not really understanding the reaction.

"What do you think?" Al replied, quite shaken. "Do you realise that Winry and Beregond might have wanted to go to Hughes' home?"

Only then did it dawn on Ed. It had completely slipped his mind that neither Beregond nor Winry knew about Hughes' death yet!

"Damn it," he swore under his breath. "At least we've bought ourselves some time."

"But for how long?" Al said. "Brother, we have to tell them. It will be worse if they find out by others and that _we _knew all along."

"I know, I _know,_" Ed said, and heaved a sigh. "I guess we'll have to tell them at the first chance."

Al nodded. "And not a moment later."

"Right." Feeling that that little matter was settled, Ed and Al went to Central Headquarters on foot, since they weren't all that far away from the train station.

To say they were shocked to see a very familiar face upon arriving there would have been an understatement.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Ed exclaimed before he could help it. "What are you doing here?"

The woman stopped on her tracks and smiled politely. "Hello, Edward… Alphonse," she said in greeting. "How've you been?"

Ed scratched his head. "Well, uh… you know. Same old, same old," he answered evasively. "So why are you-?" he froze, because it was then that the thought occurred to the teen alchemist. "Wait a minute… If _you're _here, then… the Colonel's here, too!"

Riza nodded. "As a matter of fact, we've been waiting for you. However," at that she looked at both boys curiously, "I see Beregond isn't with you. Where is he?"

"He had to see to an errand first," Al answered. "He'll come and meet us here later."

"I see," Riza said, her expression becoming quite thoughtful. "I suppose it can't be helped. You'll have to get debriefed separately."

"Debriefed?" Ed echoed.

"Yes." Riza made a small beckoning motion to the boys so to follow her. "Come along. I was on my way to the Colonel's office anyway."

The boys complied and, a few minutes later, all three walked into the ample office Riza had guided them to. Mustang was already there, sitting behind his desk, and he wasn't alone. Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery were there as well, while Black Hayate rested contently in a corner of the room.

"Well, well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes," Havoc said, smoking idly his cigarette.

Ed snorted and took a seat on the sofa. "Yeah, I know. Let me guess: I'm so small that you need to see me through a magnifying glass, right?"

Al sighed and sat next to Ed. "He didn't say that, Brother."

"He was thinking it," Ed muttered under his breath.

"Lieutenant Havoc, you know perfectly well that Major Elric might be of a certain demeaning size, but he's still capable of causing mayhem every which way," Roy said at that moment, a smirk adorning his features as he regarded Ed almost amusedly. "I've heard of your exploits in Dublith, Fullmetal. I'm surprised the city is still standing."

Ed didn't bother to answer that. He simply scowled, if only just to hide the blush of embarrassment that started forming on his cheeks. He wasn't in the mood to hear a lecture about the way he handled things, thank you very much.

Surprisingly enough, though, Mustang's face became quite serious. In fact, his body posture clearly showed Ed that the Colonel meant business.

"However, Fullmetal, I'm afraid to inform you that the time of games is over. You're part of this unit, which means that you must start acting like it. Is that clear?"

Ed sighed. "Yeah… crystal," he said. He locked his eyes on the Colonel's in an unwavering gaze. "It's because of what's been happening in Liore, isn't it?"

Roy nodded. However, that answer was enough to make Al very nervous.

"Is it… a war?" the suit of armour asked quietly.

Breda shook his head in a wry manner. "Officially, it's called suppressing an uprising region. Apparently, it makes it sound less harsh."

"And now we got ourselves caught in it," Ed said darkly.

"You can't disobey orders from the Führer himself," Roy pointed out.

"I never said I would," Ed said. "But, if you must know, I'll be coming with you for other reasons."

"Oh?" Roy said, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "What kind of reasons?"

"Al, Beregond and I believe that Scar is there too. If we don't find him, we'll be in over our heads," Ed answered as truthfully as possible. He didn't want to complicate matters any further by mentioning the philosopher's stone as well.

Neither Roy nor anyone else spoke for some time. For a moment, Ed thought that Roy would question Ed's reasons for going after the Ishbalans; but it turned out it wasn't so. Roy opened a drawer at his desk and took out a file.

"I'm afraid we're in over our heads already," he said, and tossed a picture in Ed's direction.

Ed caught the picture in mid-air easily. "What's this?" he asked.

"It's from our new surveillance balloon," Fuery explained, straightening his glasses. "They were sent over here a few hours ago."

Feeling his curiosity piqued, Ed looked at the photo. Al leaned forward in a wish to look at it too, and both brothers gasped when they saw it was an aerial shot of Liore. Worse, they could clearly see that the ground throughout the city was etched in such a way that it resembled an array – and not just any array.

"This is…" Al faltered.

"Scar's work," Ed completed, a single terrifying thought now crossing his mind: that there was a chance they wouldn't be able to stop Scar on time.

"So you know what this is," Roy said, regarding the boys quite intently.

Ed realised that there was no point in hiding anything now, so he decided to tell the whole truth.

"I'm afraid so," he said. He pointed at the array on the picture so that everyone could see it. "This is the array that an alchemist can use to create the philosopher's stone. Scar believes that if he gets his hands on enough lives, then he'll be able to create a stone for himself. And he thinks that the uprising in Liore is going to give him those lives."

There was silence for many long moments, something that Ed had expected. After all, what he had said sounded almost too incredible. What he didn't expect to hear, however, were Havoc's next words.

"It looks like you were right all along, Boss."

"Huh?" Ed and Al stared at Roy incredulously.

"Let's just say that we've made some pretty grim discoveries of our own while you were away, Fullmetal," Roy replied. "Are you ready to hear about them?"

Ed and Al nodded, and listened to everything.

* * *

Once they made sure Faenel was tied securely at the hotel's entrance (and suffering the bystanders' curious looks), Beregond, Winry and Syndow checked in; then entered their room and settled as comfortably as possible anywhere they could, whether it was the sofa, the bed, or at least a chair; the trip from Dublith to Central proved quite long and tiring, and their backs were killing them. None of them spoke, wishing to relax for a few moments, but Winry finally decided to break the silence.

"What time did you arrange for Professor Syndow's son to come and meet us?" she asked, looking in Beregond's direction.

Beregond looked at the clock that was on the nightstand. "Today at 10 o' clock. He should be here any minute now."

"I'm surprised he's not here sooner. Heaven knows how worried he and his mother must have been," Syndow said.

The Gondorian smiled. "All is well that ends well, Professor. Soon you will be back home."

"But _your _adventures are far from over," Syndow noted, fixing his gaze on Beregond. "How far are you willing to go?"

Winry blinked at that question, for she didn't understand what Syndow meant. However, it looked like Beregond understood perfectly well, because he answered without hesitation.

"To the end. That's why I want to ask something of you."

Syndow frowned at those words. "What is it?"

Beregond reached for the inner pocket of his overcoat and took out his journal. "Once this is over, I want you to have this and translate it."

To Winry's surprise, Syndow looked at the journal in shock, and he opened his mouth to say something. He never got the chance, though. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Beregond called out.

"Christopher Syndow."

The Gondorian got up from his chair to open the door. Christopher was indeed on the doorstep, and he was carrying on his shoulders a very large bag.

"Punctual, I see," Beregond noted.

"Is my father safe?" was all that Christopher said.

This time, Beregond settled with stepping aside, so that the young man could see his father. Christopher gasped and rushed to the professor to embrace him, scarcely containing his joy, while Beregond and Winry watched the reunion with a broad smile on their faces.

"I can't thank you enough," Christopher said, finally acknowledging both the Gondorian and the girl's presence. "I'm in your debt, Sergeant Beregond."

"And now it's time to return the favour," Beregond said. "Do you have it?"

"Fortunately for you, I do," Christopher replied. "It was returned to the Syndow residence a couple of days after Brigadier General Connors' death."

Beregond stared at the young man in shock. "Connors is dead?" he echoed.

Christopher nodded. "I'm surprised you didn't hear about it," he said. "It was all over the newspapers after it happened. In fact, I think something is mentioned about it in today's news too. Here," and at that, he dug out from his overcoat a newspaper. "You can have a look at it for yourself, if you want."

"Maybe later," Beregond said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm more concerned about the other thing that's in your bag."

"Yes, of course," Christopher said. "It wasn't easy carrying it all the way here, I can tell you. I'm surprised you had to wear it the whole time," he added with a wry smile, then emptied the contents of the bag on the floor. The armour landed on the ground with a loud banging sound.

"It was heavy, but it served a good purpose," Beregond admitted, looking fondly at the silver-hued plating. "And now it's time to serve another one."

"Let's start then," Winry said, opening her backpack and placing on the bed all her tools. "Ready, Beregond?"

"Ready," the Gondorian replied, and he placed his hand on the armour, starting the familiar alchemical reaction.

* * *

"Well, boys? Do you understand now?"

Neither Ed nor Al spoke. They were too focused on thinking over everything that Roy and the other soldiers told them. The military's involvement in creating the philosopher's stone for it own purposes, the Führer and Colonel Douglas' involvement and their own personal agenda in the matter; as well as the deaths of those who got too close to the truth.

Still, what had really shocked the boys was the fact that Hughes was, in fact, alive.

"The Führer said that Brigadier General Hughes was murdered," Al exclaimed.

"He _said_," Roy replied simply.

"Damn it."

Roy raised an eyebrow and looked at Ed. "Fullmetal?"

"Back in Dublith, Bradley personally led a raid that got all the fugitives from Lab 5 killed off," Ed replied. "I thought it was weird that he didn't arrest anyone, but…" he paused, still trying to grasp what he had just realised. "He was just getting rid of potential witnesses that could speak against him."

Roy nodded. "And now he's preparing his final move: have someone create the philosopher's stone for him and his partner, whoever that is."

Ed swallowed hard and exchanged a brief glance with Al. They both suspected who could be Bradley's partner, and they didn't like the thought at all.

"Looks like we have one more reason to stop Scar now," Ed concluded.

"I agree," Roy said. "However, charging Liore and starting looking for Scar isn't the best of options."

Ed fixed his gaze on Roy. "So what do you suggest?"

Roy's lips tugged into a half-smile. "We'll talk about that later. Now we have to wait for a certain sergeant who started picking up yourbad habits, Fullmetal."

Ed just snorted in indignation at that.

* * *

The Syndows left for East City, after saying goodbye to Beregond and Winry and thanking them once again for all that they had done for them. Once that was taken care of, the Gondorian and the automail mechanic could focus on their own pressing task at hand without any distractions.

"Well? Will these do, Winry?" Beregond asked, nodding at his alchemy work.

The girl regarded the silver-coloured automail parts that shone brilliantly before her eyes with quite the scrutiny, then she looked up at Beregond with a broad smile.

"They are perfect," she declared. "I'll just have to assemble them to make the automail now."

"How long do you think it will take you?" Beregond asked curiously.

Winry thought about it for a few seconds. "Well, you saved me the trouble of shaping the parts myself, but it will still take time. I'll have to work all night to get them ready by tomorrow."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," Beregond mused a bit guiltily.

"Don't worry, I'm used to deadlines," Winry reassured the man. "Just make sure Ed is here tomorrow so that I can have the automail attached to him."

"I will," Beregond said. He got up from the chair and put on his overcoat. "I should go find Ed and Al. Will you be okay on your own?"

Winry giggled and pushed Beregond lightly toward the door. "Yes, I will. Now go!"

Beregond couldn't help it. He chuckled and walked out, trusting Winry to fix Ed's new automail on time. It didn't take him long to get to Central Headquarters or indeed find the boys. They were outside the building, waiting patiently for him; Ed was sitting on the steps, while Al was playing with Black Hayate.

"It was about time you showed up," Ed said with a small huff. "Did Winry gawp at the automail shops again?"

"Something like that," Beregond replied enigmatically, though he couldn't keep his teasing tone away from his voice. "Actually, she has a surprise for you once you go to the hotel."

"What kind of surprise?" Al asked, looking at Beregond curiously.

Beregond just chuckled and patted Al on the shoulder. "If I told you, it would hardly make it a surprise," he said, only to sober at the next moment. "What news have we got here?"

Ed opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the chance to say anything; Havoc showed up, and greeted Beregond with a happy smile.

"Hey, Beregond. Did you just arrive?"

"Yes," the Gondorian replied. "As a matter of fact, I was about to ask Ed and Al for some news."

"Don't worry, you'll get to hear everything from the Colonel himself," Havoc replied. "He's waiting for you."

"Wait a minute! We're coming too!" Ed exclaimed.

Havoc shrugged. "Sorry, Ed. You're needed in Major Armstrong's office. That's what I came out here to tell you."

"But what could Major Armstrong want from us?" Al asked in a surprised tone.

"I don't know, Al," Havoc said. "You should both go anyway."

Beregond didn't speak. However, as he heard this exchange of words, he couldn't help thinking that it somehow sounded too convenient that the major wanted to speak to the boys _now._ That was something that apparently crossed Ed's mind as well, if the indignant gleam in his amber-coloured eyes was any indication.

Still, Ed smiled nonchalantly when he faced the Gondorian. "Don't worry about it. You can tell us all about your meeting afterwards, okay?"

Beregond nodded his understanding, and he followed Havoc to Colonel Mustang's office. To his surprise, though, Havoc stopped on his tracks on the threshold and got ready to leave again.

"What?" Beregond asked, finding this kind of behaviour strange.

"I can't go any further," Havoc said. "What Mustang is about to say is for your ears alone, and I have to make sure that no one will eavesdrop on you."

With that, Havoc left, leaving Beregond quite perplexed and troubled. Seeing as he didn't have many options left, Beregond decided to knock on the door.

"Enter!"

Beregond complied and walked up to Colonel Mustang's office. Roy looked at him, seeming quite pleased; yet there was a gleam of determination visible in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Sergeant. Please, take a seat. This won't take long."

Beregond sat.


	39. The Mission

Only the sound of birds singing surrounded the mansion that was located in the forest outside Dublith. The place was quiet, and there was no life inside the mansion itself. Even the door was locked, another sign that the place was, in fact, abandoned.

That, however, didn't stop Izumi. She forced the entrance open with a powerful kick, and the door collapsed on the floor with a loud crash. There was no time for discretion, after all. She wanted some answers about her old teacher and she would get them, no matter how long it took her. It was with that thought that she stepped inside, checking her surroundings quite warily.

From where should she start searching, though?

Just then, she remembered Professor Syndow's words about a secret door inside the library, and she knew where she should go first. That's where she headed off, keeping herself alert at all times.

* * *

"Wait here, okay, Al?" Ed said as the brothers reached Major Armstrong's office.

"Are you sure about this, Brother?" the suit of armour asked, his eyes reflecting his concern.

"Positive."

Al didn't object again, so Ed used his flesh hand to knock on the door. He stepped inside as soon as he heard Major Armstrong's deep voice saying: "Come in", and he closed the door behind him gently.

"Hello, Major," Ed said, standing in front of the burly man's office. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I did," Armstrong replied. He lifted his gaze to look at Ed, and the teen alchemist frowned mentally when he saw that Armstrong wasn't smiling, like he usually did. Even the brilliant aura that seemed to surround the burly man at all times was all but extinguished.

"What's wrong, Major?" Ed asked worriedly.

Armstrong stood up and walked up to Ed, regarding him quite thoughtfully. "Colonel Archer will be the one authorising the attack on Liore. His first orders were that all the State Alchemists should give up their watches for modifications."

That didn't sound right at all. "What kind of modifications?" Ed asked in a wary tone.

Armstrong's lips tugged briefly to a small, wan smile. "Not all of us have Sergeant Beregond's special ability. As you know, a State Alchemist's watch has amplifiers that boost said alchemist's abilities. In times of war, State Alchemists need as much power as they can get in order to fight efficiently."

"I see," Ed replied, frownin visibly this time. "Like they needed power in Ishbal?"

Armstrong winced, something that made Ed regret his words. "I'm sorry."

Armstrong waved his hand dismissively, though. "I understand… Now, please, hand over the watch, Edward Elric."

This time, Ed decided to comply without much fuss. He unclasped the silver watch from his belt and passed it to Armstrong. The man, however, curled his fingers around the boy's wrist instead. Edward froze and looked at Armstrong's eyes.

"Why are you doing this, Edward Elric?"

The question was gentle, an indication of what Armstrong really wanted to know. Why Ed couldn't just quit the military while he still had his innocence and integrity intact?

Ed only smiled sadly and said only two words. "Fate… maybe."

Armstrong looked at the boy quite troubled. "You don't believe in fate."

"Well, some events tempt me to reconsider my beliefs."

Armstrong didn't have anything to say to that. He just let go of Ed and watched him exit in silence.

* * *

"So… Beregond," Roy said, still regarding the Gondorian closely. "Are my orders clear?"

"Yes, Sir," came the soft answer.

"So you know what you must do."

Beregond sighed. "You do realise that you ask me to keep the truth from Edward," he said, his right hand tugging his medallion in a thoughtful manner. "In all this time that I've served under you, this is the first time that you're willing to treat him like a child."

"Would you rather I didn't?"

Beregond shook his head.

"He doesn't have to find himself in the same situation you and I have already been," Roy reasoned. "We fight so that the next generation can live without fear. You understand that, right?"

Beregond smiled, albeit wanly. "You don't have to convince me, Sir. I'll do my duty."

"Thank you," Roy said, accepting the answer.

Beregond clasped his hands together, feeling that the matter was finally settled. "So when do I infiltrate Liore?"

"The first night after we arrive at the camp. We can't afford to lose any more time," Roy explained. "You go in, you find Scar, and you make sure he doesn't create the philosopher's stone. Do you think you can do it?"

"Just make sure there are no more soldiers on my back."

"Good. That will be all, Sergeant."

Beregond nodded his acquiescence and stood up.

"And… Beregond?"

The Gondorian froze on his tracks. "Yes?"

"Remember… not a word of this to Edward."

"Understood."

With that, Beregond walked out, coming face to face with Ed and Al. The boys smiled to see the Gondorian, and all three headed toward the exit.

"Well, what did the Colonel want from you, Beregond?" Ed asked, out of the blue it seemed.

Beregond swallowed hard. He knew that lying about matters wasn't an option; the boys didn't deserve that. On the other hand, he couldn't ignore Colonel Mustang's orders either, so he went for his next best option.

"He told me everything that's happened while we were away. Even about Hughes," he said truthfully enough. "We ought to go see him."

"But the Colonel said that they were hiding him," Al pointed out thoughtfully. "How are we to do that?"

"Easy," Beregond replied with a smile. "I know where Hughes is, and we have the perfect excuse to go there."

"What do you have in mind?" Ed asked.

"Nothing too fancy. Just a friendly visit," Beregond replied enigmatically.

* * *

"And then Joshua said that he could stand on his head for even longer than Clause, so…"

Sarah listened to Alice's recounting of her school day with a small smile, and yet she wasn't really paying much attention to her. The woman was more concerned about figuring out how to keep Alice distracted, so that the little girl wouldn't come across Hughes; it was something was becoming harder with each passing day. For one thing, Hughes was steadily growing stronger and restless. Not only that, Sarah could only find that many excuses to explain to her daughter why one of the rooms had suddenly become off limits. Worse, she would have to take up her duties as a librarian again soon.

That meant one thing, naturally. She wouldn't be able to keep Maes hidden much longer. She would have to find safer quarters for him, and she would have to do that without being noticed by unwelcome eyes.

Suddenly, Alice's voice cut her off her line of thought.

"Beregond! Ed! Al!"

At the next moment, the girl had pried herself off her mother's grip and rushed to greet her friends. Sarah looked up, and she was certainly surprised to see that the boys and her friends were really on the doorstep, beckoning her to open the door.

Her smile broadened, and she walked up to them to greet them.

* * *

Izumi dragged another chest out into the light, so that she could have a better look at it. As she had expected, it was locked, just like the other ones she had found so far… and it was just as easy to alchemically open its lock.

The lid snapped open with a sharp click, filling the air with dust. Coughing slightly, Izumi looked inside the chest, only to see that it was crammed with books. Though that in itself wasn't surprising, the very age of those books was. Some of them dated back to 400 years, and the very ideas that were presented in them were older… even forbidden.

_The composition of the waters, the movement, the growth, the removal and restitution of bodily nature, the splitting off of the spirit from the body and the fixation of the spirit on the body are not operations with natures alien one from the other. But, like the hard bodies of metals and the moist fluids of plants, are One Thing, of One Nature, acting upon itself. And in this system, of one kind but many colours, is preserved a research of all things, multiple and various._

Izumi could only frown at this. It seemed that she didn't know her teacher at all and yet some of her former teacher's words on they day they parted finally made sense.

* * *

"_I'll leave the forest and go to the city," Izumi declared, looking unwaveringly at the old woman who was sitting at a desk nearby. "I should be among the people that need me."_

"_So that's it? You plan on living your life looking for praise?" Dante asked. She sighed and shook her head. "Then you might as well enlist and become a State Alchemist."_

_Izumi bit her lower lip and clenched her hands into tight fists. "Why-?"_

"_Leave."_

_But Izumi intended to make her question and Dante wouldn't stop her. "Why don't you like people?"_

"_What is there to like?" Dante answered. "They're egotistical creatures, beyond any redemption. Once they learned the use of gunpowder, all they could think of was waging war. If they were to understand the secrets of alchemy, it would be an even greater tragedy."_

"_Even so, we are humans too!"_

* * *

The woman shook her head as the memories made her feel quite bitter. However, she also knew that reminiscing the past wouldn't help anyone, so she resumed with her searching.

It was then that she caught sight of a stack of papers at the bottom of the chest. Curiosity overwhelming her, she picked them up and looked at them.

At the next moment, she could only stare incredulously at what she read there.

* * *

Sarah had been more than happy to welcome her friends to her home, and Alice had settled on Beregond's lap, scarcely containing her excitement. Everyone had spent their afternoon talking and exchanging small news, like it was expected from friends that hadn't seen each other in a while, without even realising the passing of time. However, that kind of reunion was tainted with the thick air of tension in the air, as though everyone was careful with their words and actions. It was a strange sensation, even awkward at times, and the only one who didn't seem affected by that kind of atmosphere was Alice. She was simply content with playing with Al and Beregond, until exhaustion caught up with her. She fell asleep on the Gondorian's lap, her small fingers gripping his shirt tightly and refusing to let him go.

Sarah shook her head at the sight.

"She still thinks you're some sort of a puppy, Mr. Beregond," she noted with a small smile. "Do you want me to take her from you?"

"It's fine," Beregond said, and he carefully got up from the couch, holding the girl tenderly in his arms. "Where's her room?"

"Upstairs, the first door to your right."

Beregond nodded his acknowledgement and walked up the stairs. However, he also cast a brief glance in the boys' direction before he was gone out of sight; a glance full of meaning.

Ed and Al understood what Beregond was telling them. It was time to speak to Sarah about Hughes. The brothers exchanged a look, and silently agreed that Al should talk first.

"Mrs Abbot," the suit of armour said, "There's something you should know."

"Oh?" Sarah asked, raising her eyebrow in mild curiosity.

Al nodded. "We talked with Colonel Mustang this morning. He's told us everything."

The woman frowned at this. "Everything?"

"Everything," Ed echoed.

Sarah's expression softened. "I see."

She didn't say much else. She simply stood up and walked up to a closed door, then opened it and looked inside.

"You can come out."

Ed and Al tensed, understanding what that meant. Sure enough, the sound of footsteps sounded quite clearly and, at the next moment, Maes stepped out. He was pale and haggard-looking, but it was really him, his smile brightening his features.

"Yo… You guys haven't seen Elysia's pictures from her birthday, have you?"

Ed didn't think it was ever possible, but he was actually glad to hear those words.


	40. Heading To Liore

"Beregond?"

Beregond opened his eyes slowly. He didn't know where he was at first. However, when he saw Hughes' face hovering over him, his memories caught up with him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep," he said.

"It's fine. I'm more concerned about your back actually," Hughes answered. "Sleeping on a chair can't be all that comfortable."

Indeed, Beregond had fallen asleep on a chair in Alice's room while watching over the little girl. And that was where he had remained until Hughes apparently decided to wake him up.

Beregond smiled. "I'm used to it." Rubbing the last remnants of sleep off his eyes, he looked around in a curious manner. "Where are the others?"

"They've gone out. Sarah had to take Alice to school, while Ed and Al went to see Winry at the hotel."

"Oh," Beregond noted thoughtfully. He sighed ruefully. "I wish they had told me about it."

"They figured you needed the rest, that's why they didn't wake you," Hughes said.

"But we have a train to catch!" Beregond exclaimed.

"They know," Hughes replied. "They told me that you would meet them at the station at 12.00."

Beregond sighed. It was just like Ed to leave something till the last minute. Their train to Liore was supposed to leave at that very time. If they were a minute late and missed the train, that could mean trouble with the higher-ranking officers. Beregond had already more than his fill of _that_ in this second lifetime.

Still, the Gondorian knew that there was nothing for it. Whether he liked it or not, Ed not only outranked him, but he was also very, very stubborn. He wouldn't have been able to stop him even if he had tried.

"Beregond?"

Beregond's thoughts were cut off at the sound of Hughes' voice. He berated himself for drifting off like that and faced his friend again. "Yes?"

"There's a reason I woke you up."

Beregond raised his eyebrow in curiosity. "What is it?"

Maes straightened his glasses in a nervous manner. "I want you to make a phone-call."

* * *

When Ed and Al arrived at the hotel, the receptionist directed them to Winry's room. Al thanked the man politely, but Ed wasn't feeling particularly talkative this morning. After all, he wasn't sure what Winry wanted from him, and he wasn't even sure if he _wanted_ to know.

Even so, he knocked on the door. "Winry?"

There was no answer. Ed and Al exchanged a look before the teen alchemist knocked on the door again.

"Winry?"

No luck. The girl didn't respond this time either. To the boys, that could only mean one thing.

"WINRY!" Ed and Al immediately smashed the door and hurried inside, expecting to find the place dishevelled and their friend gone.

The girl wasn't only there, however, but she also jumped up from the couch with a great battle cry and threw a wrench in the direction of the crash. Ed let out an exclamation of pain and fell on the ground, a lump already forming on his forehead. Al squeaked and retreated a few steps, taken aback at the sudden counter-attack.

"Ed? Al?" Winry asked in the end, her tone groggy with sleep. She first looked at the suit of armour, then at the teen alchemist on the floor.

Only then did she realise what happened.

"Oops… Sorry about that," she said sheepishly. She lowered the second wrench she had been about to throw at the 'intruders', and she sat on a chair with a sigh. "It's your fault, though. You should have knocked."

"We did knock," Ed grumbled, getting back on his feet.

"I don't think crashing a door can be considered knocking," the girl pointed out.

"Well, if someone had answered the door in the first place, then this wouldn't have happened!" Ed retorted, scowling.

"Give me a break, I was working all night," Winry answered. "The least you can do is show some gratitude."

The boys looked at Winry curiously. "What were you working on?" Ed asked.

Winry settled with just pointing at the table nearby. Ed and Al turned, and they caught themselves staring in wonder at a silver-hued automail arm and leg.

"Is that… for me?" Ed asked, feeling almost at a loss for words.

Winry nodded. "It's made of mithril. Beregond figured you would need it while fighting in Liore," she explained. She flicked the plating, and a small melodious sound filled the room. "Very light, but harder than steel. You should have no problem with it."

"So that's what you were planning back at the train," Al exclaimed.

"Pretty much," WInry answered with a smile. "Now come on, Ed, sit down so I can install it on you. Al… you'd better fix that door. I don't need an audience while I'm operating."

Surprised, Al looked at the door, noticing that there was already a group of people commenting on the door's state. Glad for once that he couldn't blush, Al bowed his head slightly in a gesture of apology and walked up to the ruined door.

A clap later, the door was back to normal. So, satisfied, Al faced Ed and Winry again…

… only to see them staring at him incredulously.

"What?" the suit of armour asked, but it soon dawned on him. He staggered backwards, looking at his hands in disbelief. "I… I clapped!"

"Yeah," Ed answered, his amber-coloured eyes still wide open.

"But how? I couldn't… Oh…" Al's voice trailed off. "It's because I remembered what happened at the Gate, isn't it?"

Ed nodded. "You know what that means, right?"

Al let out a sigh. "Dante will want to come after us more than ever if Scar fails to create the philosopher's stone."

"Unfortunately," Ed said. The boy's features creased to a small frown as he contemplated matters. "Use your alchemy as little as possible. If people think that you still can only use transmutation circles, it will work to our advantage."

"Okay," Al said with a nod. Suddenly, his red eyes flickered in a mischievous glint. "Brother?"

"Hm? Yeah, Al?" Ed asked, not minding Winry as she took out his automail arm.

"I'm as good as you now."

Ed froze at the realisation. Al was right. Before, Ed was the powerful alchemist, whereas Al provided physical strength. But now, Al was both a powerful alchemist and a better fighter.

The equation was disrupted.

_Damn it._

Ed didn't have the chance to think about it much longer, though. At that moment, Winry installed the mithril arm on him.

Ed's scream rang throughout the building.

* * *

The sound of ringing filled Roy's office, but Roy himself hardly paid attention to it. He was busy signing one last stack of papers before he headed for the station. Besides, he knew that Riza would answer the phone anyway.

Sure enough, Riza stood up and picked up the receiver. Roy fleetingly heard her speaking on the phone for a while, and he thought that would be that.

He certainly didn't expect to see her walk up to him, a very serious look on her face.

"Colonel, your brother has just called and he wishes to speak with you. I suggest you don't use the military lines since they're not meant for personal conversations."

Roy frowned, quite surprised at her words.

_My brother?_

However, something in Riza's expression made him catch on.

"Did he leave a number?" he asked, sounding nonchalant.

"Here you are, Sir," Riza answered, handing him a small piece of paper. "You'd better be quick about it."

"Don't worry," was all that Roy said before grabbing his overcoat and walking out. As soon as he found a phone-booth, he walked inside and dialled the number Riza had given him.

"Hello?" another voice replied at the other end of the line.

Roy couldn't help but smirk slightly. He knew that voice only too well.

"Brother, huh?" he asked. "Too bad I only have sisters."

"Hughes had already told me that, but I couldn't transmute myself into a woman," Beregond said dryly.

Roy couldn't help it. He smiled. "I suppose not. Did Hughes talk you into phoning me?"

"You have to admit, he's persuasive."

"I know."

"He also loves his family very much."

_Ah… so that's the problem, _Roy thought, sighing a bit. "Beregond, there's a reason he's hiding. I thought you understood that."

"I do, Sir," Beregond replied, his tone gentle. "But I also know what it means to be separated from your child."

Roy winced inwardly. It was no wonder Hughes had managed to convince the Gondorian so easily. Beregond used to have a family too and, though he never showed it openly, he was still pained by the loss. He certainly wouldn't want anyone else to go through such pain.

"Colonel, you had told me some time ago that I could always speak to you freely," Beregond said at that moment.

"And I meant it," Roy answered.

"Then there's something I feel I should point out," the Gondorian said. "You've said that both the Führer and Colonel Douglas will travel to Liore in order to observe matters there."

"Yes."

"And we'll be there as well, so they can keep an eye on us too."

"Yes."

"That means their focus is shifting. There won't be any surveillance in Central," Beregond said.

Roy frowned at this. He had to admit that Beregond had a point, but…

"It won't stay that way for long."

"It's still a chance," Beregond said. "And, besides, Sir… I believe Hughes might take advantage of the situation anyway, although he'd preferred it if you knew about it."

Roy now realised that there was nothing for it. He'd have to relent.

"Understood. You can tell Hughes that he can go to Gracia when the coast clears," he finally said. "But he should still watch out."

"It will be done," Beregond said. "I'm sure Mrs Abbot will help him."

"I'm sure of it too," Roy said, resting his back against the booth. "I'll see you at the station, Sergeant."

"Farewell for the time being, Sir."

And with that, they hung up.

* * *

"Done," Winry declared, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth. "Tell me what you think, Ed."

Ed didn't get up at once. He first flexed his automail fingers and toes, looking at the metal digits moving with fluent precision. It was strange to see such a light-coloured automail on him, but he liked it. Winry had certainly outdone herself.

However, he truly appreciated the new automail when he stood up and took a few steps forwards. He froze and stared at both fake limbs in sheer disbelief.

"Brother? What's wrong?" Alphonse asked. He hadn't expected that kind of reaction.

"Wrong?" Ed echoed, a broad grin crossing his features. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with it! It's perfect!" Before Winry and Al could stop him, Ed made a series of cartwheels around the room, all the while positively beaming. "It's almost as light as my real limbs!"

"I take it you approve," Winry noted with a smile. Her eyes shone with a mischievous glint. "Now, about the cost of the automail…"

Ed winced. He should have realised that things were too good to be true.

Surprisingly enough, though, the girl started laughing.

"I'm just kidding, Ed. It's not going to be as expensive as the previous time," she said. "I'll just charge the work done on the assembly, since Beregond was the one that provided the materials."

"Oh! Thanks, Winry!" Ed replied, smiling once again.

"Not me… him," Winry answered. She paused, regarding the brothers in a thoughtful manner. "He really cares about you two. Very much like an uncle."

Ed and Al exchanged a small glance before turning to the girl once more.

"We know, Winry."

Winry's expression had become quite serious though. "So… I know he'll look after you in Liore."

Al's eyes dimmed slightly at those words. "Winry…"

"That doesn't mean you can do whatever comes to your head, okay?" she continued, her eyes now stubbornly locked downwards. "You have a quest to see through, get it?"

Ed and Al didn't speak for some time, unsure what to say. And just when the suit of armour plucked up the courage to speak, Winry looked up, her smile back on her face.

"All right, now shoo," she declared in a weak tone, waving her hand dismissively. "You have a train to catch."

"Aren't you coming?" Ed asked, sounding surprised.

Winry shook her head. "I want to see Mr. and Mrs. Hughes while I'm here."

Both boys flinched at those words, and they shifted their weight in an embarrassed manner.

"What?" Winry didn't understand what the problem was.

Ed looked at Al in pleading way, hoping that his brother would get them out of this awkward situation. Al shook his head, though; he was out of ideas as well.

It couldn't be helped anymore. Winry deserved to learn the truth, so Ed decided to tell her just that.

"Winry… you'd better sit down."

* * *

Beregond was sitting at one of the benches at the train station, tapping his foot nervously. He looked around once more to find any sign of Ed and Al, but he didn't see anything. Sighing, he rested his back once more against his seat.

A hand rested on his in reassurance.

"They'll be here," Sarah said. "We were just the first to arrive."

Beregond nodded, but there was a very troubled expression on his features.

"A part of me wants them here so that they won't get into any trouble," he confessed in a quiet tone. "Another wants them to miss the train."

Sarah bowed her head. "I know the feeling."

Beregond nodded his understanding and he placed his free hand on her shoulder. Yes, Sarah knew the feeling. After all, there was someone else heading to war; someone as important to the woman as her late husband had been, if not more. That was why she had accompanied Beregond to the station after leaving Alice at her school.

"By the way, I spoke to the Colonel," he said, remembering himself. "Hughes can go see Gracia, provided you keep an eye on him."

"All right," Sarah answered. "And while you'll be away, we'll look for any more evidence against the Führer."

"Good," Beregond said. However, he couldn't help but also feel troubled. "Will you manage it on your own?"

Sarah was quite honest about things. "No. But we can always ask Scieszka's help as well. And… I think it's time she learnt about Hughes too."

Beregond winced. "At this rate, Hughes' resurrection from the dead will become the top gossip in Central."

Sarah chuckled. "I don't think anyone who's on the know would risk disclosing such information to just anyone. It would sound too unbelievable."

"That's true, I suppose," Beregond mused.

And with that, they both fell silent, getting lost in thought. That is, until a hesitant voice sounded quite close to them.

"Mrs. Abbot?"

Beregond and Sarah lifted their gaze, surprised to see that it was a young woman with glasses. The Gondorian hadn't seen her before, but Sarah obviously recognised her.

"Scieszka? What are you doing here?" she asked, standing up to greet her friend.

"I just wanted to see someone off," Scieszka replied timidly. Just then, she caught sight of Beregond, who still regarded her curiously. "Um… I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had company. I should go."

"It's fine," Sarah said calmly, gripping the girl gently by the arm to make her stay put. She nodded in Beregond's direction. "He's a friend of Ed and Al. He's heading for Liore too."

Scieszka blinked a bit, staring at Beregond, and then looked back at Sarah. "Does he… know?" she asked nervously.

Sarah nodded, and Scieszka relaxed quite visibly. She bowed her head apologetically to Beregond.

"I'm sorry about that," she said in a polite manner. "It's just that a lot of things have been happening lately."

"I understand. There's no need for an apology," Beregond replied, waving his hand dismissively.

Scieszka made a motion to speak again, but she never had the chance. Just then, Colonel Mustang entered the station in the company of his unit. Beregond noticed the young girl looking at Falman, while Sarah directed her gaze to Havoc. Smiling inwardly, Beregond slipped away and walked up to Roy to salute him.

"At ease," Roy said, saluting back. "Everything's been taken care of?"

"Yes, Sir," Beregond replied.

However, Roy looked around, raising one of his eyebrows. "And yet I don't see Ed and Al anywhere."

"Here!" Ed's voice sounded above the crowd at that moment.

Beregond, Roy and the others turned around, just in time to see the teen alchemist dragging Faenel with him and pushing his way through another group of soldiers nearby. Alphonse was following closely behind, apologising all the way like always. Winry, on the other hand, seemed quite subdued, her face pale and worn out.

Beregond knew the reason behind the girl's weariness, of course. Still, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. He couldn't even guess for how long she had worked on Ed's mithril automail.

Still, it looked like it was worth it. As he watched the young alchemist place Faenel inside the last compartment with the military horses, Beregond couldn't help but notice that Ed's step was lighter and livelier than before.

"So, boys," Roy said, looking at Ed and Al curiously and a smirk crossing his features. "You decided you couldn't leave all the fun to us?"

"Oh, be grateful," Ed retorted. "You need someone to clean the mess you're bound to do."

Beregond shook his head mentally at the banter, knowing perfectly well that that was Ed's way of reporting for duty.

Just then, he also noticed that Winry had in the meantime walked away discreetly to talk to Scieszka and Sarah. Judging by the dumbfounded look on Scieszka's face, Beregond realised that they were making some certain arrangement concerning Hughes.

It was also a fortunate thing that the train whistle covered the poor girl's scream of disbelief at hearing of her boss's revival.

"Beregond? Ready to go?"

It was Al who asked that, regarding the Gondorian curiously.

Beregond nodded absentmindedly, looking at the train, then at the other soldiers and, lastly, to Winry, Sarah and Scieszka.

"Tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than today, for many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help it. The board is set, and the pieces are moving."

"What?" Al asked, confused.

"Nothing. That's what an acquaintance of mine said long ago," Beregond replied quietly, and he boarded the train.

The last thing he saw was Havoc and Sarah exchanging a glance full of meaning and mouth three words in the form of farewell.

_I love you._

* * *

Gracia looked at the clock on the table to check the time. Seeing that it was getting late, she turned to her daughter, who was sitting at the table and drawing on a piece of paper.

"Elysia, it's time for bed."

The girl nodded, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She extended her arms upwards so that Gracia would pick her up and sighed once she settled in her mother's arms. By the time Gracia went upstairs and placed Elysia on the bed, Elysia had fallen asleep.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Gracia whispered and kissed her daughter on the forehead. Making sure that she didn't make any noise as she walked out the room, she got ready to turn in too.

Just then, she thought she heard a knock on the door, something that surprised her. The hour was quite late and she wasn't really expecting anyone. So, she dismissed the sound as a figment of her imagination. That is, until there was a second knock.

The woman didn't like that. Nevertheless, she went down the stairs and looked outside the window to see who it was. She could clearly see Sarah, and her friend wasn't alone. Winry and Scieszka were with her, as well as another, taller figure, whose face she couldn't make out.

Fearing that something must have happened, Gracia quickly opened the door.

"Sarah, what's going-"

Gracia's words died in her throat, and all she could do was stare at a face she believed she would never see again. She took a few steps back, feeling her eyes widening tenfold.

"H-how-?"

Sarah walked in, placing her hand on Gracia's shoulder in reassurance.

"It's a long story, so you'd better sit down," she said, already prodding the woman towards the sofa.

* * *

"So, what can you guys tell me about Liore?"

Ed and Al turned to Beregond, surprised at that unexpected question. The Gondorian was sitting by the window, a curious look on his features.

"What do you want to know?" Ed asked cautiously.

"Have you been there before?"

"We have," Al replied with a nod. "Almost a year ago."

Beregond nodded his understanding. "Were things as bad then as they are now?"

"No, not really," Ed replied. "In fact, the town was pretty much loaded because of a certain priest and his lies."

"A priest?" Beregond echoed as the story started sounding familiar. "Wait a minute… Are we talking about the same priest that used a fake philosopher's stone so he could present himself as an emissary of a god?"

Ed and Al nodded.

Beregond sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It couldn't be helped, I guess," Ed said, shrugging his shoulders. "The homunculi wanted their fallout, so they made one." His gaze drifted to the direction of Kimblee, who was sitting a little farther away. "And they plan to finish the job."

"Let it go, Brother," Al said. "It's not worth it."

"Alphonse is right," Beregond said. "It's not in our place to judge who the military hires or not; we have other matters to worry about."

Ed didn't say anything to that. He realised that Al and Beregond had a point.

"So…" Beregond asked in a nonchalant manner at that moment, "Did you meet anyone else in Liore except for the priest?"

Ed crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "Nope. None that I can remember."

"Come on, Brother," Al said, his tone slightly chiding. "Don't tell me you've forgotten Rose."

"Who?" Beregond asked.

"A girl we met while we were in Liore," Al answered. "She used to work for the priest, until she understood that he was a fake."

"Oh." Beregond pursed his lips momentarily. "So… You think she's still in Liore?"

"Probably," Al said.

"My question is: why do you want to know?" Ed said, looking Beregond from the corner of his eye.

"I just wanted to know," the Gondorian replied simply, and he left it at that.

Ed wished he could believe that.

* * *

Sarah didn't realise how long she spoke, sitting on the sofa in Hughes' house. Nevertheless, she kept talking, hardly paying attention to the shocked faces of Gracia and Scieszka, or Maes and Winry's knowing expressions; until she finally finished her part of the story.

"And that's about it," she said in the end. "By Roy's orders, we've been keeping Maes out of sight since."

"What I don't understand is why you didn't say something before," Scieszka said at that moment. "I was blaming Colonel Mustang for nothing."

"I couldn't tell you. We wanted your grudge to be genuine," Sarah replied with a shake of her head. "We even meant to keep it a secret longer, but there's been a change of plans."

"A change?" Gracia asked, not really understanding.

"The enemy has made their first move. Now it's time we made ours," Sarah explained. She smiled wanly. "However, Maes wanted to set things right for your sake, Gracia."

The woman seemed to have barely acknowledged Sarah, though. Her eyes were locked on Maes, still regarding him in a mixture of disbelief and hope.

"I should have realised something was wrong," she said quietly. "They wouldn't let me see your body. They wouldn't even say what had happened to you."

"I know," Maes said. He reached for her in mild hesitation and held both her hands in his. "I wish I could somehow-"

"Shh," she replied, nuzzling his nose gently. "It doesn't matter now." She leaned forward, burying herself in his arms and resting her head on Maes' chest. "You're back."

"We still have to be careful," Maes pointed out.

"That's why Scieszka and I will work in the field instead," Sarah said. "However, we need to start making people understand that the military isn't what it seems. To do that, we'll have to start confiding in people we can trust."

"Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Bloch are decent people," Maes said. "They'll be able to help you and get you information from inside Headquarters now that Roy is gone."

"That will do the trick," Sarah said. "And I suggest we make copies of the evidence we've found so far. We don't need the homunculi to get their hands on our only proof."

"But where will you keep those copies?" Winry asked curiously.

Maes turned to the girl, his face quite serious.

"Winry… when do you leave for Resembool?"

The girl blinked in surprise.

_TBC..._


	41. Change Of Plans

_A Few Miles off Liore_

Ed stepped out of the train, followed closely behind by Beregond and Al. Colonel Mustang was nowhere to be seen, but the three companions expected that. It was only natural for the Colonel to go to the Führer and report for duty. So, as soon as Beregond got Faenel out of the compartment she was cooped up in, they all started wandering the place.

The one who was certainly impressed was the Gondorian. His gaze kept drifting to the tanks and machine guns, and he swallowed before he could help it.

"Are you okay?" Al asked, noticing Beregond's unease.

Beregond patted Faenel's neck, considering Al's question carefully.

"I'm not sure," he answered eventually, his tone soft. "I remember the time when you first welcomed me into your home and showed me all those wondrous machines that made your life so very simple. But now I also see machines that can annihilate everything in sight." He faced the suit of armour, a sad expression on his features. "This is no war. It's an extermination."

Al nodded, seeing the Gondorian's point. "Yeah."

Just then, another voice rang through the air.

"Sergeant! Sergeant Beregond!"

Beregond turned to the direction of the voice, certainly not expecting anyone to recognize him among all the soldiers that surrounded him.

His eyes widened when the man realized who was approaching him.

"Major Moser!" he exclaimed, saluting at once.

Ed and Al stopped in their tracks and regarded the other major in mild surprise.

"Do you know each other?" Ed asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Beregond nodded and motioned his hand toward the newcomer. "Boys, this is Major Conrad Moser, the Rock Alchemist. We met while you were in Central. He also helped me when Fawcette was about to place some unfounded accusations against my person."

Major waved his hand dismissively. "I hardly did anything. You should thank Colonel Mustang, not me." He turned to Ed and Al with a friendly smile on his lips. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Fullmetal Alchemist. I've heard a lot about you and your exploits over the years. Impressive for someone of your age."

Ed grinned, clearly happy that someone would know him by reputation alone. "I've heard about you as well, Major," he replied graciously. "Your research on alchemy-enhancing stones has been quite interesting."

Moser smiled in a cordial manner. "It's not much, but it provides a steady paycheck," he said. He looked at all three companions, noticing the bags they were holding. "Did you just arrive?"

"Indeed," Beregond said. "How long have you been here?"

"Three days," Moser said. "I can show you around the place if you want."

"Well, I'd certainly like to know from where I can get my watch back," Ed said at that moment. "They took it for some modifications and they haven't returned it yet."

"Yes, all the alchemists complained about that," Moser said. He sighed exasperatedly. "I wish I knew what kind of modifications they are, considering that they never came to me for such a thing. I'm usually in charge of such things."

Ed's look of impatience must have been a sign that Moser was digressing, for the Rock Alchemist coughed in an embarrassed manner.

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble on," he said. "As I was saying, you can go to that building straight ahead, and ask for the officer in charge. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," Ed said with a small nod before turning to his brother. "Coming, Al?"

"Sure," Al said and faced the Gondorian. "See you later, Beregond?"

"Of course, Al," Beregond answered, smiling a bit. "I have to put Faenel to a stable, anyway."

"Great," Moser said. "And if you want, you can find me at the bar afterwards and bring you up to date with the latest news."

"I might just take you up on the offer," Beregond replied, his smile broadening. He waved his hand goodbye and walked away, Faenel still by his side; whereas Ed and Al went ahead to attend to their own business.

However, as they walked toward the building, Al could see that something troubled Ed.

"Brother? What's wrong?"

Ed put his hands in his pockets and kicked an invisible stone.

"Al? You trust me, right?"

Al cocked his head and regarded Ed in a curious manner. "Of course I do. Why?"

The teen alchemist sighed. "Because I'm going to do something that will make me hate myself by tomorrow."

Al's eyes widened at that. "What are you planning to do?"

Ed said nothing. He just walked up to the desk and asked the officer for his watch.

* * *

Beregond looked at the crowd that had accumulated at the small make-shift canteen. It didn't take him long to locate Moser and, surprisingly enough, Havoc was at the same table as well, conversing with the major.

"Hey," Moser said, beckoning Beregond to sit down. "You've actually made it."

"It took me a while till I found a good spot to place Faenel in," Beregond explained. He smiled in Havoc's direction. "But it seems you already have company."

"The major was more than kind enough to give me news from East City," Havoc said. "It looks like things became boring ever since our gang moved to Central."

Moser laughed. "I'm only saying what my boss said, nothing more."

"Your boss?" Beregond asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, that's right. I'll have to tell my news from the beginning," Moser said. "I'm working for Lieutenant General Grumman now."

Beregond sat up. He remembered Riza mentioning the name before, and he also remembered that Grumman was Colonel Mustang's mentor.

He smiled inwardly as he realized that the Colonel was rallying even more allies around him.

"So is the Lieutenant General here, too?" he asked.

"No. He's still in East City, keeping an eye on things there," Moser answered with a small smile. "Both outside and inside the military."

Beregond looked at the major curiously. If he didn't know better, Moser sounded as though…

Moser nodded and leaned closer.

"I didn't know much at first, mind you. I just realized something was strange when they didn't use my own research on alchemy-enhancing stones, and yet somehow managed to come up with some stones of their own. Then I've heard about Dr. Marcoh's research, and that one seemed to be more than just suspicious, considering that the Crystal Alchemist was more specialized in the Philosopher's Stone. And, when I started working under Lieutenant General Grumman, I've started discovering more and more interesting things."

"Let me guess…" Beregond said. "Havoc filled you into the rest." It certainly explained the second lieutenant's presence there.

"That sounds about right," Havoc said, a big grin tugged on his features. However, his mirth died down and he looked at Beregond quite seriously. "Are you ready for tonight?"

Beregond stiffed at that. "You know about that?"

"I know enough," Havoc said. "I'll drive you close to Liore."

"I see," Beregond said. "I'm glad it's going to be you."

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to be really happy. That was something that didn't escape Havoc's attention.

"What's the matter? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet?" He asked, regarding the Gondorian closely.

"Nothing like that," Beregond replied. He sighed and rested his back against his seat once more. "Edward suspects something."

Havoc sighed and shook his head. "I'd be more surprised if he _didn't _suspect anything," he said.

"Perhaps," Beregond said. "But that's not the problem."

"Then what is?" Moser asked curiously.

"Knowing Edward, he will demand explanations sooner or later," the Gondorian answered.

"So?" Havoc said, letting out a puff of smoke from his lips. "You can tell him Mustang handed you a mission, but you aren't allowed to say what kind of mission."

Beregond winced. "That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

The coolness of the night replaced the unrelenting heat of day. The military camp was quiet now, for most of the soldiers retired to their tents in order to catch a few hours of sleep. Fires lit in various places of the camp so that the soldiers that were still up and about could enjoy the coziness of the flames. So, none of the soldiers seemed to notice the tall figure that walked under the cover of darkness.

Beregond checked his surroundings once more, holding tightly the small bundle in his arms. He had to see to a mission, after all, and in that bundle was the Liorite outfit he would use to enter the city. Once he made sure that none of the guards saw him, he walked up to the jeep that was parked a few meters away, far enough from any prying Amestrianeyes.

It didn't take Beregond long to locate the jeep in the darkness. Used to seeing in darkness after many long night patrols back in his days as a Captain of Emyn Arnen, detecting the metal sheen of the automobile was mere child's play. And it was even easier to see next to the jeep the tiny speck of a red light, surely the end of a burning cigarette.

"You'd better put out that light, Havoc. I can see it a mile from here," Beregond declared.

"Don't worry about it, we're too far away," Havoc said. Nevertheless, Beregond saw the speck of light falling on the ground and getting extinguished underneath the sole of a boot. Moments later, Beregond spotted the lieutenant himself, resting his back against the trunk of the jeep.

"Did you have any problems?" the Gondorian asked, standing now in front of Havoc.

"None whatsoever," Havoc answered, the last remnants of smoke dispersing from around him. "How about you?"

Beregond shook his head.

"But there's still something troubling you," Havoc said, regarding Beregond closely; he had obviously noticed his friend's unquiet. "Did the boys give you any hard time before you left?"

"That's just it. I haven't seen them since this morning," Beregond said. He looked at his surroundings again. "I suppose they wanted to be on their own for a while."

"That's right, we wanted to be on our own… so we could spy on you."

Beregond and Havoc turned in the direction of the voice, shocked to see that it was indeed Edward.

"Chief? What are you doing here?" Havoc asked incredulously.

"Funny, I was just about to ask you the very same thing," Ed said, his amber-coloured gaze practically piercing the two men through. "So… care to answer?"

Beregond sighed, a wan smile tugging on his lips. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you figured things out, but I didn't expect it so soon. What gave me away?"

Ed shook his head. "You're too honest, Beregond. I realized you were hiding something from the moment you stepped out of Mustang's office. When you asked about Liore back on the train, I made the connection."

"I see," Beregond said quietly. He turned to Havoc. "Can you wait five minutes?"

"Go ahead," Havoc said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Beregond nodded his thanks and then beckoned Ed to walk with him, cringing inwardly to see the boy's expression revealing nothing. Ed simply looked ahead, keeping his hands in his pockets.

Beregond pointed at a small cluster of rocks nearby. "This looks like a good enough spot," he said. He sat on one of the rocks and waited patiently for Ed to do the same thing.

Ed sat cross-legged on the rock across Beregond, locking his gaze on the man. "Well?"

Beregond heaved another rueful sigh. "Edward, I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry, but, please, you have to understand. I had strict orders from Colonel Mustang not to tell you anything."

"I still don't see why he should send _you_ to Liore," Ed said.

"He wanted to protect you."

"I can take care of myself!" Ed exclaimed indignantly. "I have taken care of myself and Al since our mother died!"

"You misunderstand me," Beregond said. "He wants to protect you from other than physical injuries."

Ed clenched his jaw. "I'm still not some dumb kid to be pampered. I'm not afraid!"

"If you go, you will be."

"And you won't?" Ed snapped.

"I've been in that state of fear before," the Gondorian replied. He rubbed his forehead in a weary manner and stood up. "Edward, I realize that you fight to make things right. But, after all this time, I think you should finally make this _our _fight." He started heading back to Havoc, but he stopped right at Ed's side and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm on your side, Edward. I always have been and I always will be. You know that."

Ed bowed his head, averting his gaze. "I know."

Beregond smiled in relief. "Good."

But the Gondorian barely took a couple of steps forward when he heard Ed stand up and say:

"That's why I can't let you do this."

Beregond turned around in numbing confusion, but it was too late. Ed clapped his hands and placed them on the ground. Before Beregond had the chance to react, a giant fist of sand emerged and hit Beregond squarely on the chest. The Gondorian was thrown a good couple of feet away and ended up head-first on a rock. He didn't even shout in pain at the impact. He simply fell on the ground, slipping into unconsciousness with a small moan.

Ed quickly rushed at the prone form to examine Beregond's head. There was a large cut at the back of the man's head, and it was bleeding.

The boy didn't waste any time. He tore his red overcoat and made some make-shift bandages out of it.

"I'm sorry," Ed whispered as he still tended the wound. "I didn't want this."

He looked at the Gondorian's features, relieved to see that there was a healthy colour clinging on his cheeks. Beregond would be fine, even though it was a certainty he would have a splitting headache when he came around once more. The least Ed could do was make sure Beregond lay comfortably on the ground before rushing to the jeep with Beregond's bundle in his arms.

Just as he expected, Havoc was also knocked out, a similar set of bandages wrapped around his head.

"Al?" Ed said softly, looking around for any sign of the suit of armour.

"Right here, Brother," Al said, appearing out of the shadows. He wrung his hands nervously, an expression of guilt clearly visible in his red eyes. "Did we have to do that?" he asked, nodding in the lieutenant's direction.

"It's not that we had any choice," Ed said. "If Dante is in Liore like we suspect, Beregond would walk right into her trap."

"What about us, Brother? Dante is after us too," Al pointed out.

"We know what she looks like. That makes us better prepared," Ed replied. "Now hurry up, we have to go to Liore before we're discovered."

"But how are we to do that, Ed? We can't just go on foot!"

"Who said anything about going on foot?" the teen alchemist said indignantly. "We have our means of transportation right here."

Al didn't understand what kind of transportation Ed was talking about, until he realized his brother was approaching the jeep. If the suit of armour could pale, he would do just that right there and then.

"What? Are you serious?" he exclaimed in shock. "You don't even know how to drive!"

"Oh, relax, Al," Ed said, waving his head dismissively. "How difficult can it be?"

Ed found that out as soon as both brothers settled in the jeep and he started the engine. The automobile made a leaping motion when a clumsy metal foot let go of the clutch too soon, and then it zigzagged forward as the teen alchemist grasped the steering-wheel.

"Brother, maybe we should-" Al started lamely.

"No, I've got it," Ed said, switching gears at random. "The pedals are just a bit too far away for me."

"Don't you mean you're too short to reach them?" Al noted wryly.

"NO, I DON'T!" Ed's roar filled the quiet night air.

The jeep simply moved forward in hiccoughs and swerves, resembling a sort of drunken animal.

* * *

Beregond tried to lift his head, a motion that he regretted immediately. His temple was currently throbbing painfully and his ears were ringing with white noise. He couldn't understand at first why he should feel that bad, but his memories soon caught up with him.

"_Amman, Edward?_" (Why, Edward?) he mused softly, as though the teen alchemist was there to answer him. But Beregond knew all too well that it wasn't so and he couldn't afford to wonder why and how. He had to get up.

He pushed himself back on his feet, wincing inwardly as a wave of nausea washed through him. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and moved forward, until he came across Havoc's unconscious form. He knelt down at the lieutenant's side.

"Havoc," he said. When Beregond didn't get an answer, he shook his friend by the shoulder. "Havoc!"

Finally, Havoc stirred. "Aw, mom… five more minutes…"

"Wake up!"

Havoc instantly sat up at that command, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Wha-? Ow!" He groaned and grasped his head with both hands. "What the hell happened?" he asked, looking at Beregond and hoping the Gondorian would explain matters to him.

"Edward and Alphonse happened," Beregond answered wryly. "They had some objections as to our mission."

Havoc swore under his breath. "We have to tell the Colonel."

"You do that," Beregond said, standing up once more. "I'll go after them." He hardly turned on his heel, however, when the world around him span.

"Whoa, hold on there!" Havoc said, scrambling back on his feet in order to catch the Gondorian. "You're not going anywhere before a doctor checks your head."

"But Edward and Alphonse…" Beregond started.

"Ed and Al have taken the jeep," Havoc replied. "You would never be able to catch them on foot even if you weren't hurt."

Beregond hated to admit it, but Havoc was right. So, he followed his friend towards the camp, albeit reluctantly, while one thought crossed his mind.

_You'd better stay out of trouble, Edward._

* * *

Ed ran his hand through his dark wig discreetly, making sure that it was in place, and then pulled the sleeves of his Liorite shirt down so that it covered his metal arm. He sat quietly on a chair of a small canteen, avoiding any eye-contact with any of the people that were near him. Though no one had seen through his disguise just yet, he didn't wish to take any chances either. That was why he had asked Al to stay out of sight at the city's borders. It had been more than a year since Ed had come to Liore, but people would certainly recognize a giant suit of armour nonetheless.

"I see. You were driven away from the city because of that priest, huh?" the owner of the canteen said, addressing Ed. "Well, Father Cornello was a villain if you ask me. He promised us wealth and immortality through his so-called miracles, and now look what it got us into. Everybody's living in fear and the soldiers are killing us in sight."

Ed nodded, although he wasn't really paying attention to what the man was telling him. After all, he could see the results of Father Cornello's exposure for himself as he looked at his surroundings. Filth and scattered debris replaced the tall, white buildings, whereas the strong, healthy citizens were practically emaciated.

Ed couldn't help but feel guilty at the sight. He was sure he had done the right thing by revealing Father Cornello's lies. Now, however, he wondered if he should have left things just the way they were. Now the Liorites had to pay the consequences of one overly ambitious man's actions.

"By the way…" the man at the canteen said, regarding Ed closely. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Ed winced. "Um… no, I don't think so," he answered quickly, hoping that his voice sounded steady.

The man raised an eyebrow, probably contemplating whether he should take Ed's word for that or not. Just then, however, a voice sounded in the air.

"It's the Holy Mother!"

The man gasped, almost dropping the glass he was cleaning. "Hey, kid, you're in luck!" he said. "You will get to see Her!"

"Her?" Ed asked before he could help it.

"The Holy Mother," the man answered. "She was chosen so that we could fight against Cornello and all his loyal servants, for She was one of the first to see through their deceit. I tell you, if there's anyone who knows how to guide us at this time, it's Her."

Ed turned around so that the man wouldn't hear him snort softly. It looked like the Liorites hadn't changed at all this past year, wishing to turn to anyone who presented themselves as God's messenger instead of standing on their two feet and move forward.

The sound of chanting reached Ed's ears and the teen alchemist lifted his gaze to see a procession of women, clad in white robes. Ed watched the bystanders bow and knit their hands together in religious respect and clenched his jaw. That sort of display left him quite miffed, but he knew better than showing such a thing. So, he let the wig cover his eyes so no one would notice his frowning expression.

It was just as well, for no one noticed the look of shock that crossed his features when he saw just _who _was the one leading the procession, carrying a baby in her arms. For there was no mistake the long brown hair and the dark pink bangs.

"Rose…"

* * *

Though Beregond and Havoc knew that the news of Ed entering Liore was meant for Roy's ears only, their bandaged injuries gave them away at once. And so, Roy and the rest of the unit could do nothing when the news of a State Alchemist missing spread like wildfire and the soldiers started talking agitatedly amongst themselves. Others said that the Liorites kidnapped the teen alchemist for ransom, others said that they grabbed him to use him as hostage, and others that they meant to execute him in retaliation.

Just when the stories became so exaggerated and frightening that the soldiers reached to a state of panic, the Führer appeared with his secretary at his side. Bradley stood proudly on a small pedestal so that everyone could hear him, his good eye almost piercing every soldier that was around and thus silencing them.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice loud and clear, "It seems that the Liorites have proved themselves to be far more ruthless and cold-blooded than they would have us believe. While we've been trying to bring order and peace in this region once more, they had the nerve to abduct a soldier, a mere child, from under our very noses. They ungratefully mocked our authority, and they've also shown how little respect they have for the life of another person." He crossed his hands behind his back, making himself look taller if that were possible. "I was hoping we would solve this matter peacefully, but now they have left us with no choice. Gentlemen, you'd better be prepared; we leave at dawn. We'll find those weeds of discord and dispose the world of them once and for all."

As cheers and shouts of affirmation echoed through the camp, Breda found the opportunity to lean close to Roy and whisper: "So it begins."

Roy nodded his agreement, his hands clenching into fists.

"Damn it, Ed…" he said under his breath, "you have no idea what you've done."

The rest of the unit winced at those words. They cared about Ed, there was no question about it. But now the boy's lack of faith in the judgement of others, especially Mustang, just in a big mistake. Havoc turned to Beregond, wanting to see how the Gondorian was holding after this unwelcome turn of events.

His eyes widened in shock when he saw that Beregond was gone.

_Oh no. _Havoc understood what that meant and he didn't like it one bit.

"Colonel… I think we have another problem."

Sure enough, at the other side of the camp and before any of the other soldiers could stop him, the Gondorian climbed on Faenel and rode off at top speed to the direction of Liore. The cloak that he grabbed and placed on his shoulders to cover his military attire bristled wildly in the wind.


	42. The Scar

_Ishbal, 8 years ago_

_The sixteen year old boy ran as fast as his feet could carry him across the blossoming green fields. He smiled brilliantly, wishing to tell his brother how well he had done in his lessons today, and he couldn't wait to hear of his brother's word of approval._

_He slowed down, however, when he caught sight of his brother, then stopped altogether when the boy realized that for there was someone else with his brother. A beautiful woman who looked at the young bespectacled man with eyes filled with love and offered him a small locket._

"_Take this as a keepsake," she said softly, "So you'll remember me after I'm gone."_

_His brother embraced her tenderly, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. As for the boy, he slipped quietly away, a pang of guilt gripping his heart. _

* * *

The religious process continued on, the sound of chanting haunting the streets. More and more people started gathering around the litany, so that they could get a glimpse of the Holy Mother and her servants. Lust and Gluttony, however, preferred a much better view from a tall bridge nearby. They smiled broadly, for everything was going just as their master had planned all along.

Lust's expression of satisfaction changed to curiosity when she noticed a very familiar form moving in the crowd. Though the clothes and the hair looked different, there was no mistaking that pair of amber-coloured eyes, or the determination that was reflected through them.

"Well, well," she mused softly. "Here I was, expecting the Gondorian, and yet the Fullmetal boy showed up instead. I suppose Dante was right."

Gluttony frowned and chewed one of his big fingers in indecision. "Not good, not good. She said we should find the Gondorian."

Lust smiled. "It doesn't matter. The boy will do just as nicely."

Gluttony never answered, because he started sniffing the air loudly. His beady little eyes shone with the glee and excitement of a bloodhound finally catching a whiff of a long-lost prey.

"I… I smell it, Lust…" he whispered, grinning. "I smell his Ishbalan blood!"

"And there is the man himself," Lust noted, her purple gaze locked downwards.

Sure enough, a large robed man grabbed Edward from behind, forcing him to turn around. At the sight of the crimson eyes and the large scar on the forehead, Edward instantly pushed the man of balance and ran off. He ran to the direction of the dark alleys, knowing that Scar would chase him there. And when he made sure that no innocent bystanders would get hurt, Ed would fight back.

* * *

Kimblee sat in a relaxed manner in a small room, staying out of sight as Colonel Archer instructed him. After all, as Archer told him, it would be best if they kept their best weapon out of sight until it was the right time. Though Kimblee was flattered at those words, admittedly, he couldn't help but feel cooped up, and his battle-thirsty heart craved for some action at last.

The sound of a door opening made him turn around. He smirked when he saw who it was before him.

"Well, well, the Führer himself coming to see me. That's an honour," he said, standing up and saluting in a mock cordial manner.

"At ease, Crimson Alchemist," Bradley said, waving his head dismissively. Colonel Douglas walked in close behind him, keeping her eyes on the ground and her face as cold as stone. "There is a reason I wished to see you."

"But of course," Kimblee said with a snort. "So… what can I do for you, your Excellency?"

Bradley's fingers rested on his sword. "As you're well aware by now, the military has received orders to attack the city of Liore in approximately two hours. Nevertheless, there is something you can do for me in secret."

"And what is that?" Kimblee asked.

Bradley smiled enigmatically. "Shou Tucker may have passed away, but his legacy of perfect chimeras under the control of the military still lives on. Crimson Alchemist, you and Colonel Douglas are to take those chimeras and find your way inside Liore."

"I see," Kimblee said, regarding the woman almost contemptuously before turning to Bradley once again. "Are we supposed to look for that twerp that calls himself an alchemist?"

"Yes," Bradley answered. "And when you do… get him before he causes us any trouble."

"Why, Führer," Kimblee exclaimed in mock surprise. "Are you asking me to kill a fellow soldier?"

Bradley's good eye gleamed dangerously. "Only if you have no other choice. Is that clear?"

Kimblee grinned broadly. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

Another flash of bright red light filled the dark streets and Ed ducked out of harm's way. The wall beside him blew up to pieces, and the teen alchemist had to cover his eyes so that none of the debris would hit him. He ran down another alley, but he cursed loudly when he realized that he had reached a dead-end.

"This is all too familiar, isn't it, Fullmetal Alchemist?" Scar asked, walking towards Ed slowly, like a lion preparing itself for the final pounce against its prey. "If you've come all the way here, then you must know what I'm after."

"That's right. You want to create the philosopher's stone, using your own self as the container. But guess what." Ed clapped, transmuting his automail into his favourite blade-shape. "I won't let you do this."

"And I won't let you get in my way," Scar replied simply.

"You can always try," Ed answered with a smirk. "But before I kick your ass, there's something I want to know. Four years ago, there was a chimera in Central, part-dog part-girl. It died when someone tore her up from the inside through alchemy." Ed's eyes reflected his anger. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

Scar nodded, understanding what Ed was talking about. "I returned it to God."

Ed clenched his flesh hand into a fist. "Why?" he asked furiously.

"It couldn't be saved."

"That's not for you to decide!" Ed answered back. "Is this how you're going to kill the Liorites and Rose too? By using that kind of damned logic?"

"You know Rose?" Scar asked, eyes widening in mild surprise.

"Well enough not to let you use her for your purposes!" Ed all but screamed, and lunged for the attack.

Scar's lips tugged to a small taunting smile. "You don't learn from your mistakes, do you?" Before Ed could get a scratch on him, Scar dodged the attack and grabbed the boy's automail with his left hand. His whole arm flashed brilliantly as he started the alchemic reaction that would destroy the metal blade once more.

He was almost shocked to see that nothing happened. Ed took advantage of his distraction and tried to kick him with his automail leg, but Scar proved faster again. When he saw that he couldn't destroy that limb either, however, he used the leg as leverage instead to push Ed away from him.

"What's happening?" he asked.

Ed chuckled and got back on his feet. "I've learnt from my mistakes, that's what's happening. Beregond's told me about your arm. As an incomplete Philosopher's Stone, you unconsciously figure out the ingredients that make up your opponents and you fine-tune your technique to destroy them. That's why a good friend of mine made sure you wouldn't know what kind of metal _this _is." He extended his automail arm so that the mithril shone brilliantly under the meager light of the lamp posts. "And, by the way… Though tougher than steel, this automail is as light as feather, so this will be over _very _quickly."

True to his words, Ed instantly jumped forward, wielding his mithril automail swiftly towards Scar's chest. Though the Ishbalan managed to avoid the hit again, he didn't react fast enough when Ed's automail leg knocked him off his feet. Scar landed on the ground with a loud thud, and at the next moment Ed was pinning him down with his body.

"You idiot!" Ed exclaimed, grabbing the Ishbalan by the collar so that they looked at each other face to face. "Sacrificing the lives of an entire town just to make the Philosopher's Stone will only turn you into the very people you wish to take revenge on!"

Scar glared at Ed. "You've forgotten something important," he said, curling his fingers around the boy's left wrist. "I can destroy human flesh as well."

Ed clenched his teeth and got ready to strike anyway, but he stopped at once. Two blackened spear points barely missed his face and ended up on the wall a good couple of feet away. Ed turned around, for he understood perfectly well who was behind this sort of attack.

"Homunculi," he said, glaring at Lust and Gluttony. Indeed, the two soulless creatures were standing a bit further away, a strange gleam shining through their cold eyes.

"We meet again, Fullmetal boy," Lust said with a smile of triumph. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Yeah… She sent you, didn't she?" Ed said through clenched teeth. "Well, give her my best regards!" In the blink of an eye, Ed clapped his hands once more and placed them both on a water pipe nearby. The metal became hot at the touch, and the water inside boiled to the point that steam burst out of the pipes with a loud bang right on the Homunculi's faces. Lust and Gluttony cried out in pain and collapsed ungraciously in a heap, but it was a victory that didn't last. Both Homunculi got back on their feet, their burns fading away to be replaced by white skin again.

"That burned…" Gluttony said with a childish giggle.

Lust, on the other hand, snorted and pushed back a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "You should know by now that you can't kill us that easily."

"Then I'll just have to try again," Ed declared. But as he was about to take another step, Scar stood up and approached the Homunculi, his hand reaching for the inner pocket of his shirt.

Lust smiled in mock politeness. "Hello, Scar. You don't have to give me that look. After all, we _are _protecting you."

"I'm your enemy," Scar said.

She chuckled. "Are you talking about that time in the library?" she asked and then waved her hand dismissively. "Let bygones be bygones. After all, you are going to make the philosopher's stone now for us."

"Who are you, I wonder," Scar said, bringing forth a sort of pendant with Ishbalan engraving on it. "Does this bring back memories, daughter of Ishbal? You gave this to my brother."

Lust froze, staring at Scar incredulously. "That story again?"

"REMEMBER!" the Ishbalan cried, and extended his hand forward and the pendant glinted softly under the light.

Lust didn't say anything, she couldn't. She kept stepping backwards, shaking her head continuously as though that would help her somehow.

"Keep away…" she murmured painfully. She grabbed her head with both hands and let out a terrible scream that rang through the air. "KEEP AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Lust!"

But it was too late, Lust ran away, getting swallowed by the darkness of the night. Gluttony had no choice but to follow her after casting a look of hate towards the Ishbalan and the young alchemist.

A few moments of eerie silence reigned, as neither Ed nor Scar wished to speak. In the end, though, Ed's curiosity got the better of him and turned to the Ishbalan.

"What do you know about her?"

Scar span around, his arm glowing red. "Nothing that has to do with you!"

"Stop it!"

Ed and Scar turned at the sound of the voice. Rose was standing close to them, still holding the baby in her arms, and Ed was shocked to see that Lyra was next to her.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Please," Lyra said, "Please listen to what he has to say, Ed. I think that's what she's trying to say."

Ed gasped as a terrible suspicion entered his mind. He looked at Rose in disbelief.

"Rose, you can't speak?"

The girl smiled sadly and nodded.

* * *

Alphonse stood by the rock formations he crafted via alchemy, looking warily at his surroundings. Everything seemed quiet for the time being, and the suit of armour hoped that things would remain that way. He was lucky that no one noticed the alchemic reaction in the first place.

_You'd better get on with it quick, Brother, _Al thought, sighing mentally. Al felt bad about tricking their friends in such a way, and a part of him hoped he and Ed could still return before they were missed.

His hopes came to naught when he heard the sound of galloping coming rapidly in his direction, for he knew only one who rode a horse. Sure enough, Faenel appeared moments later, carrying a cloaked Beregond on her back. The Gondorian didn't seem to notice the suit of armour, however, so Al stepped out in the moonlight and waved at the man to stop. Beregond's eyes widened when he noticed the suit of armour.

"_Daro!_" he exclaimed. Faenel obeyed at once, raising a thin veil of dust as she planted her hooves on the ground to come to an abrupt halt in front of Alphonse. Beregond allowed himself a small smile, and he patted the black neck affectionately before turning his gaze to Alphonse. "You'll have a lot of explaining to do when we get back to base, Alphonse."

"I know, I'm sorry," Al replied. "But Brother wouldn't listen to reason."

"Yes, I found that out the hard way," Beregond noted dryly, pointing at the bandages on his head. "Don't worry, he didn't hit me that hard," he added, seeing Al lowering his head in shame. "Besides, we have more pressing matters at hand. The Führer is planning a full assault as we speak. The whole army will be here by daybreak."

Al gasped. "But Brother is inside the city!"

"Oh no…" Beregond breathed out, slapping his forehead. "We'll have to find him before they get here. Do you have any idea where Edward could have gone?"

"No," Al answered. "He just said that he was going to look for Scar."

"That means he could be anywhere," Beregond mused. "We'll have to separate." Holding Faenel by the reins, he grabbed Alphonse gently by the hand. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

Ed sat cross-legged on a creaky chair in the centre of the poorly furnished room. The place was dark but for the light of a small candle placed on a table nearby, and there were four plates with some warm food. None of the occupants touched the food though. They had other, more serious matters to attend to.

Lyra walked up to Ed, a hand clasping her long dress so that it wouldn't sweep the dusty floor and another holding a glass of water. "Here, you probably need this," she said.

Ed nodded his thanks and accepted the water; he was thirsty anyway. Nevertheless, he looked hard at the young girl.

"Is there something wrong?" Lyra asked, evidently puzzled at Ed's piercing look.

"You tell me," Ed replied, taking a sip of his water. "What are you doing here, Lyra?"

Lyra sighed. "I came here to help, that much should be obvious, Ed," she said.

"And what did Dante say about your decision?" Ed asked, still regarding her closely.

Lyra shook her head. "I don't know."

Ed raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? I'm surprised. Aren't you her student?"

"Well, not anymore," Lyra replied with a huff. "After what happened at the mansion, she left without saying anything to me, so I took the next logical step: to put my alchemy into good use."

"I see," Ed said, downing the rest of the water with a gulp. "And what is your story with Scar? If you had wanted to help the Liorites, you should have fought him instead of helping him."

"Don't get me wrong, I wanted to stop him at first," Lyra said. "But then I heard his story and I realised that he's not the one on the wrong here."

"I already know his story," Ed said indignantly.

"No, you don't," Scar said at that moment. He was sitting on another chair at the other side of the room, looking at his locket thoughtfully. "Back when Ishbal was still a peaceful land, I had an older brother. An intelligent, respectable brother whom I was proud of. My brother had a beautiful lover, who died of a disease all too early and returned to the bosom of our God, Ishbala."

"And?" Ed asked with a frown, facing Scar.

"And, in order to revive her, my brother defied the teachings of Ishbal and taught himself alchemy," Scar answered. "Yet, even after paying for his lust, she didn't come back."

Ed nodded in understanding. "What he created couldn't be described as human."

"Yes." Scar sighed. "After that, my brother was banished, because alchemy was forbidden in Ishbal. I thought that would be that but now… I begin to wonder if my brother succeeded. That woman named Lust looks precisely like my brother's lover."

"Only in looks," Ed said. "Lust is just a homunculus, a product of failed human transmutation and nothing more."

Scar's hand closed around the locket tightly. "I see. Then she's truly gone."

"That reminds me of something Dante told me," Lyra said then, crossing her arms in thought. "She said that she once failed a human transmutation and created a Homunculus instead."

"Several, more likely," Ed replied with a snort. "She created them so she could have under her control the perfect, unstoppable army. At least, until now." The teen alchemist got up and walked up to Scar. "Give me the locket."

Scar looked at Ed hard. Nevertheless, he decided to indulge him. "What do you want it?"

"To verify something," Ed replied. "Lust hates this locket for some reason. If what my teacher said is right…" At that, a sharp clicking sound filled the air as Ed opened the locket and he looked inside it. "Just as I thought. My teacher told me that Homunculi are weak against parts of their former bodies." He picked up the contents carefully and showed them to Scar. "This must be a lock of hair of your brother's lover."

Scar locked his gaze on the lock of fine black hair as though he was mesmerized. He reached for it almost hesitantly and took it from Ed's hands so that he could look at it the better.

"Yes… it is hers. She always said that she wanted a part of her close to his heart. That was why she gave him the locket," he said softly.

"Well, what's done is done. For whatever reason, humans always believe they can defeat death." Lyra said with a small huff and turned to Scar. "You still haven't finished your story."

The Ishbalan didn't reply. He simply took the locket from Ed's hands so that he could place the lock of hair back inside the locket. Once he closed the locket and put it around his neck once more, he continued his narrative.

"Some time after my brother left, we were invaded," he said. "We retaliated in an attempt to defend our home, and then the long exhausting battle began. It was during that time that my brother returned too, claiming that he knew how to create the philosopher's stone and thus save Ishbal."

"And your people actually accepted him back?" Ed asked.

"We were besieged by war and desperate. Most of us believed that we had no other option left," Scar replied with a shrug. "So, my brother came back home and locked himself in his room, working on his research. But, just when he came close to completing it, he abandoned his research completely." Scar looked at his left arm. "I couldn't understand why at first. Now I know."

Ed sighed and rested his back against the wall. "Yeah, Beregond told me about that. It would take a lot of lives to create the philosopher's stone even through Ishbalan alchemy."

"An entire town or race, to be exact. Because then all the souls that are absorbed from those deaths become one, thus forming the philosopher's stone," Scar answered. "Even so, the philosopher's stone was necessary in order to save Ishbal from war.

"It was also why Ishbal ended up destroyed."

* * *

"_They're coming! Run for your lives!" a woman shouted, holding a small child in her arms. The sound of explosion followed, and all the Ishbalans that were trying to flee dispersed hither and thither in terror and panic. Only one young man didn't lose his heart just yet, and he was still holding his brother by his tattooed wrist and dragging him forward._

"_Hurry! They mustn't find you!" the young man said._

"_Please… just leave me here…" the emaciated bespectacled man murmured._

"_No!"_

_Another explosion filled the air, knocking the brothers off their feet. They tried to get up, but a tall, lean man stood tall at the top of the sand dunes, regarding the refugees contemptuously._

"_I am Major Kimblee, the Crimson Alchemist," he declared, a broad, maniacal grin tugged on his features. "I'm the one responsible for the annihilation of this area. So I hope your souls are prepared."_

"_Please, stop!" an elderly man cried, walking up to the alchemist, keeping his hands outstretched in a gesture of mercy. "We're being chased out of our own country. Isn't that enough?"_

"_I'm just following orders," the Crimson Alchemist replied coolly, "Even if it means killing every one of you bastards." _

_The old man gasped and tried to run away, but it was too late. Kimblee grabbed him from his face with both hands. The man exploded in pieces, a sight that made the Crimson Alchemist let out a cry of triumph. _

"_You monster!" the young man cried, clenching both his hands into fists. He lunged in the hopes of hitting the Crimson Alchemist on the face, but, unfortunately, the young man wasn't a trained soldier. Kimblee avoided the punch easily and grabbed the young Ishbalan by the forehead._

"_I like your style, so here's what I've thought for you: I'll blow you up piece by piece," Kimblee said, his tone light and eerily jovial. "First, let's turn part of your skin into an explosive material, shall we?"_

_The words barely escaped his lips when the skin on the young Ishbalan's forehead reddened and swelled until it went out with a loud, sickening pop. The Ishbalan cried out and reached for his forehead, the excruciating pain almost tearing him apart._

"_Wait," Kimblee said. "I'm not done." Sure enough, he grabbed the Ishbalan's arm with both hands and then let go. Blood spilt on the young man's feet as the arm exploded in a mass of red, and the young Ishbalan fell on his knees, almost fainting. "And then…"_

"_STOP!"_

_Kimblee and the young Ishbalan looked up. The Ishbalan gasped, for his brother was back on his feet, revealing his upper torso and keeping his arms outstretched._

"_Let him go," the bespectacled man said, trying to keep his tone threatening._

_Kimblee was hardly daunted though. He whistled to see the great amount of tattoos on the dark skin of the Ishbalan. "My, that body looks like a huge transmutation circle. What are the odds of finding an Ishbalan alchemist?" _

"_Stay away!" The tattooed Ishbalan warned._

"_Or what?" Kimblee said. "I'm not that weak, you know. I have this." At that, he took out of his pocket a small red stone and held it up so that he could use it. But the red stone suddenly lit up with a brilliant flash and the man cried out in pain. His tattoos turned red and, at the next moment, the stone flew out of Kimblee's hand. The Ishbalan's cries became louder as the stone dissolved on his chest, becoming one with the tattoos._

"_What is this?" Kimblee exclaimed, still looking at the scene in surprise. He didn't have time to ponder on matters though. The sound of cannon-balls firing made him turn around, and he cursed loudly when he saw a human shaped tank approaching his direction. "Damn it… That Colonel Grand!"_

_The one-armed Ishbalan didn't know what happened next. Overcome by exhaustion and blood-loss, he succumbed to the blackness of unconsciousness. When he woke up again, there was no sign of the Alchemist or of anyone else for that matter. Everything was quiet once more, and even the pain in his arm was gone. He raised his left arm to feel his scarred forehead._

_It was then that he realised it. There was _another _arm in place of the one that he had lost. A tattooed arm. His _brother's _arm._

"_What… What is the meaning of this?" the young Ishbalan murmured in disbelief. He looked up, and saw another form lying on the ground a few feet away from him. _

"_Brother?" Worried, the Ishbalan stood up and hurried at the other form's side. "Brother, please…" He turned his brother over on his back, hoping that it wouldn't be too late._

_He froze when he saw his brother's left arm gone, replaced by a stump._

"_No! What have you done?" the young Ishbalan cried, shaking his brother. _

"_The people that were inside me… are inside you now… through that arm," the bespectacled man answered softly. _

"_Why?" _

"_So you would live."_

"_And what about you?" the young Ishbalan asked in exasperation. "I need you, Brother!"_

"_It's too late for me…I've already done the unforgivable," the dying man said. He smiled, keeping his eyes locked on his younger brother. "You loved her… didn't you?"_

_The scarred Ishbalan flinched at those words, but his brother didn't seem angry at all. Just sad._

"_I'm sorry… but I'll be seeing her… first." And with those last words, the older Ishbalan passed away, a sigh flowing out of his lips. All that was left in the young scarred Ishbalan to do was cry his anguish to the heavens above._

* * *

Ed sighed and bowed his head. He hated to admit it, but he felt for Scar now. His story reminded him too much his own story. Before him was someone who would do anything for his brother's sake, even face danger against all odds. Except Scar's brother was gone, never to return.

"I understand. I understand what your brother was trying to do, and why he gave you life," the teen alchemist said quietly. However, his hands clenched into tight fists. "But that's no excuse for you to use Rose in order to complete your brother's work."

"He isn't using her," Lyra said at that moment, shaking her head.

Ed faced the richly dressed girl, looking at her sceptically. "Then what is he doing?"

"Scar isn't planning on using the people of Liore," Lyra answered. "When the fighting begins, the Liorites will take an underground pathway and evacuate the city. Then the soldiers that will be lured in will become the ingredients for the philosopher's stone."

Ed bit his lower lip to suppress a gasp as he understood what that meant. The colonel, Hawkeye, Havoc, the others, _Beregond…_ everyone would be…

"There will still be victims!" he exclaimed. "No one deserves death!"

At those words, Rose stood up and shook her head in a defeated manner. Holding the baby in her arms, she walked into the other room without looking back. Ed could only watch her go, not understanding what her reaction meant.

"Rose…"

"Do you have any idea what the military did to this city? To her?" Scar said, his look piercing Ed through. "She was taken away and when she got back… she couldn't speak. Nine months later, she gave birth to the boy in her arms."

As realisation crept treacherously up his spine, Ed felt his eyes widening tenfold.

"You mean… Rose was…?" But his voice died in his throat, unable to finish the sentence.

"Do you still want us to forgive the military?" Scar asked, thus giving his answer. "Or do you want further proof?"


	43. Holy Mother

Beregond drew the cloak closer to himself, so that none of the people he passed by noticed his uniform. He walked slowly, with Faenel following close behind, and kept his head bowed; he wanted to be sure he didn't draw any attention to himself. Even so, he still darted his eyes in every direction in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Edward.

What he saw, however, was a group of children pinning a smaller one against a crumbled wall, ready to beat him. Feeling enraged at the injustice, Beregond murmured something under his breath.

Faenel obeyed at the inaudible command and galloped at the group of kids. Neighing loudly, she started stomping her front legs and kicking her hind ones in the air, and she didn't stop until most of the children were out of sight and Beregond patted her neck, congratulating her on a job well done.

The boy didn't move from the spot where he had collapsed, trembling. His eyes even widened in fear when Beregond stepped closed to him.

"It's fine, child. I only want to help," Beregond said in a reassuring tone. "Are you injured?"

The boy shook his head, so Beregond offered his hand to help him stand up. A small pouch slipped out of the boy's trousers at that motion, and Beregond immediately bent to get it in order to give it back to its owner.

The boy tensed, and only relaxed when Beregond gave him back the pouch without opening it.

"You'd better keep your money in a safer place," the Gondorian said. "That gang probably won't come after you again, but someone else might."

The boy stared at Beregond incredulously. He obviously didn't expect the man to figure out what was inside the pouch. "I-I will. Thanks," he stammered. He looked at Beregond again, taking in the tall figure and the kind eyes. "You… you aren't from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Beregond answered truthfully. "I'm looking for someone, a boy with amber-coloured eyes. Have you seen him?"

The boy shook his head. "Sorry. Is he your son?"

"Sort of," the Gondorian replied, deciding that it wasn't the best idea to say that the particular boy was actually his superior officer. "Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"If he listened to that Ishbalan, he's probably gone by now," the boy said. "Everyone who's in the city has to evacuate before the military arrives."

Beregond clenched his hands into fists before he could help it. "Did the Ishbalan say that?"

"Yes. Just an hour ago."

_Ai, Valar…_Beregond now realised what was Scar's plan, and he felt like his heart missed a beat. "I have to find him," he murmured.

"I hope you do," the boy said, not really understanding whom Beregond meant. He didn't even stay to hear the Gondorian's absent-minded goodbye. He ran off as fast as his feet could carry him.

On the other hand, Beregond didn't lose any precious time. He swiftly took out his journal and scribbled a hasty message on one of the blank pages, then tore off the page so he could put it inside a small glass cylinder he created out of the sand. After securing the cylinder tightly on Faenel's saddle, he whispered to her another command.

"_Hiro mellyn nin. No celeg._"

Faenel didn't have to be told twice. As soon as Beregond words flowed out of his lips, she galloped away and rushed back to the military camp.

* * *

Ed stood frozen, staring with eyes widened at the sheer number of graves that were unveiled before him under the relentless light of the moon. A part of him tried to reassure the young alchemist that what he was seeing wasn't real, that his eyes were merely playing tricks on him.

Yet Scar's voice was enough assurance that Ed wasn't having a nightmare.

"The army has been invading the city since the priest's disappearance. They tried to rule the city with martial law and attacked the civilians in the process," the Ishbalan said, sitting on a rock nearby, regarding Ed almost coldly. "Aren't you the one who ignited the fuse to his situation?"

Yes, Ed could only admit it. It _was_ him that did this. He allowed himself to be moved about like a mere pawn by the Homunculi while he thought he was helping the Liorites. He clenched his hands into fists, willing himself not to fall on his knees. His eyes stung with tears threatening to fall, but he blinked them back furiously.

Scar just kept talking.

"The Liorites are, strangely enough, closely related to the Ishbalans. Maybe that's why the Amestrian military doesn't regard them as human."

"You don't understand…" Ed breathed out.

"No, Fullmetal Alchemist, it is _you _who doesn't understand," Scar said. He stood up, a look of grim determination reflected in his eyes. "I'll complete the philosopher's stone if it means opposing such kind of oppressors. Even if it's the last thing I do."

"No… No, wait!" Ed span around, but it was too late. Scar turned his back to the teen alchemist and walked away, not bothering to look back.

* * *

Being a seven-foot suit of armour certainly had its advantages. Al could easily stand in the middle of the street and look at all directions without anyone blocking his view. Moreover, none of the passers-by dared to cross Al's path as the suit of armour walked on, so Al could move without much difficulty. So, in less than half an hour, Al managed to search all the western part of Liore while looking for Ed.

Still, he didn't find his brother anywhere, and Al was almost at his wits' end by now. He could only hope Beregond's luck was better than his, for they were running out of precious time.

"Hey! You there! The one with the armour!"

Al stopped in his tracks and looked to his right. He was quite surprised that the man that was approaching him was the owner of the canteen he and his brother had ended up upon visiting Liore more than a year ago.

"Hello, sir," Al said politely, but he couldn't help but feel nervous. That man had been one of Cornello's followers, so it mustn't have bee a pleasant thing to find out that Cornello was a fraud. That was also why Al couldn't understand why the canteen-keeper would want to talk to him. After all, it was the boys that exposed Cornello.

"Well, well," the canteen-keeper mused, stepping close to Alphonse and looking at him from head to toe. "I thought you looked familiar. Then again, I doubt there would be all that many crazy people walking around the desert in armour." He looked around, obviously trying to find something. "So… where's your little buddy?"

"Um… I was looking for him actually," Al replied, scratching his helmet in an embarrassed manner. "Did you see him by any chance?"

"No, sorry," the canteen-keeper said. However, at the next moment, his eyes widened in realisation. "Wait a minute… Your friend couldn't possibly be wearing a disguise, could he?"

Al would have swallowed hard at that moment if he could. He had just exposed his brother, and he had exposed him to someone who had every right to bear a grudge against him. He quickly considered the option of lying, to laugh it off and say the man was delusional, but… he couldn't bring himself to do it. If there was anything Al was quite bad at, it was lying.

So, even though a part of him warned him that he was going to regret this, he decided to speak the truth.

"Yes. He was wearing a long brown wig and Liorite clothing."

To Al's surprise, the canteen-keeper simply frowned at that answer.

"I guess that explains why that _other _little guy looked so familiar," he mused.

"You've seen him?" Al asked.

"Yup. He even sat at my canteen and had a drink and all," the man replied. "After that I saw him heading to that direction over there." The canteen-keeper pointed to the southern parts of the city. "He seemed to be in a hurry, as though someone was after him."

_That means Brother's found Scar,_ Al thought, tendrils of worry creeping up the back of his mind. The question now was: did they fight?

"If you hurry, you might be able to find him," the canteen-keeper said, cutting into Al's train of thought.

Al nodded his acknowledgement before realising. "I will… thanks."

He turned to leave, but his conscience stopped him. He needed to get something out of his chest, sort of speak, or he'd regret it forever.

"By the way, I'm sorry."

The canteen-keeper looked at Al in surprise. "For what?"

Al shuffled his legs uncomfortably. "For what's been happening here. I can't help thinking that my brother and I were responsible."

"Your brother-?" The man seemed quite surprised at that, nevertheless he shook his head. "I see. However, you shouldn't apologise for such a thing. You had to expose the truth, and we Liorites had every right to know about it."

"You… really think so?" Al asked, scarcely believing what he was hearing.

The man nodded. "Come on, kid, think about it. When you and your friend came here the first time round, all Liorites thought nothing could touch us, not even death; all because of a con-man who did a couple of tricks and convinced us that we could become immortal. We had become conceited, and we needed that slap in the head to be reminded that we were just humans."

"But the army…"

"It's all part of our existence. We have to get through the worst of times in order to fight for and enjoy the best of times." The man reached for Al's arm and patted it reassuringly. "Trust me. You did the right thing."

Al didn't know what he was supposed to say to that. He just kept staring at the man, filled with a sense of awe. That is, until the canteen-keeper nudged him gently.

"Now go. You've got to find your brother."

Al didn't have to be told twice. In seconds, he headed for the southern parts of the city, keeping a lookout for any glimpse of Ed or Scar.

* * *

There wasn't much left from the church that once housed a fake priest and all the statues in honour of the so-called Sun God. The building lay in ruins because of the cannons of the Amestrian military, and none of the Liorites were saddened to see its destruction.

Even so, it was among the debris that a great number of Liorites gathered around so that they could hear Scar's words. The Ishbalan was standing proudly at the cracked flight of stairs with Rose at his side. The girl still carried the baby in her arms, and there was a small smile tugged on her lips.

"People of Liore!" Scar started, "You know, as well as I do, that the army is asking for a reason to attack us! They might even make it as though _you _attacked first. And that, of course, means one thing: the army won't hesitate to turn this war into a mass genocide!"

He turned briefly at Rose, who just nodded and took his hand in hers. Nodding back, he faced the crowd again and continued.

"So I say lure them in without resisting! Because, when the time is right, the wrath of God will befall on them!" And as those words flowed out of his lips, Scar rested his glowing left hand on a rock and shattered it to pieces. Gasps of awe and shock echoed throughout the crowd at that sight, soon to be followed by cheers and exclamations that God was on the Liorites' side.

It was enough to make Ed's stomach churn. However, the boy wasn't foolish enough to express such a thing in front of the people of Liore and risk his cover. He watched everything from a safe distance, sitting on the base of a broken column. He didn't even seem to acknowledge Lyra, even though she was standing right next to him.

"What's in your mind?" she asked quietly, though she never took her eyes off the cheering mob.

Ed's hands clenched into fists. "He says he's doing this for Rose's sake," he replied. "He's still taking advantage of a crippled girl."

"I understand your exasperation," Lyra said. "Nevertheless, her presence gives those people the courage they need to resist the military without the help of God Leto or the army's interference."

"By making them obey _her._"

Lyra sighed and shook her head. "It can't be helped, Edward. We, humans, are weak."

Ed didn't answer to that. It didn't seem worthwhile. Besides, after everything he had seen, he couldn't help but start to believe that Lyra was right.

Just then, a strange scent reached Ed's nostrils. The teen alchemist frowned at that, for the last time he had smelled something like that was while his father was still at home.

"Lyra, are you wearing perfume?" he asked before he could help it.

"Uh… yes. I didn't have the time to take a bath yet," she said, sounding embarrassed. "You don't like it?"

"Not really," Ed answered candidly, leaving it at that.

"Sorry."

Neither of the two alchemists spoke for some time. Still, it was obvious that Lyra wanted to know more about Edward.

"So… what are you going to do?" she asked.

It didn't take a great mind to guess what the girl was talking about. Ed sighed and rested his chin on the palm of his right hand.

"I can't let Scar have his way."

"You will fight him then?"

"If it comes down to that."

Surprisingly enough, Lyra rested a hand on one of Ed's shoulders, and her voice softened so that only he could hear her.

"Whether you fight him or not, there will still be casualties and victims. Now it's time to ask yourself what is the lesser of the two evils. We both wish to protect the city, and I'll do anything to see to that." Thin fingers reached for one of Ed's bangs and placed it behind the boy's ears, then she looked at him straight in his eyes. "Won't you do the same?"

Ed froze, unsure what to make of her words. And before he could muster his wits to answer, she was already walking away to join Scar and Rose.

* * *

Breda strapped his gear on his uniform, a very grim expression on his face. He didn't seem to pay attention to his surroundings as all kinds of thoughts piled in his mind. So, it was only natural that he almost jumped when he saw a horse coming up to him and nuzzling him. When he realised that the horse was Beregond's and there was a tube strapped on her saddle with a message in it, however, Breda knew that he had to talk to Mustang about it. Thus, a few minutes later, everyone in the colonel's unit were gathered in one of the more secluded tents to avoid being listened in on.

Roy took the note from Breda's hands and unrolled it. He smirked quite visibly.

"Well, well… Faenel makes a fine messenger," he said. "According to this, Beregond is warning us not to enter the city, no matter what. Scar is planning to use the military as the ingredients for the philosopher's stone instead."

Riza shook her head. "Even so, it is of no importance to the Fuhrer or the Homunculi. They'll still get what they want."

"And perhaps they were counting on that as well," Breda said. "That explains Bradley's haste to attack the city."

"But if that's the case, we can't allow the soldiers to enter," Fuery noted.

Roy heaved a sigh. "I agree. That's why I'll tell Bradley about Beregond's current whereabouts."

"What good will that do?" Havoc asked not really understanding.

"There is a chance Beregond is still valuable to them. He's the most powerful alchemist of our time, so I doubt they'll want to lose him in Liore."

"They'll have to hold off the attack," Riza said, catching on.

"Yes." With that, Roy curled the message in his hands, then stepped out of the tent to head towards the Führer's quarters.


	44. A Mother's Face

Ed tried to get as comfortable on the small bed he was laying, but it was impossible. True, there were times that he could sleep just about anywhere, but tonight it wasn't one of them. His mind was simply too distracted as all kinds of thoughts piled in his mind.

His musings were bound to be cut off, however, when the sound of frantic pounding on the door reverberated throughout the house. Ed frowned, and decided to look into matters himself. Getting out of the bed, he stepped quietly close to the door and opened it just a bit so he could have a look at the main room.

Just as Ed suspected, Scar opened the door to a couple of Liorites who were tattered, wounded and covered in dust – a sign that they had just escaped from battle. Lyra, seeing the two men in such a pitiable state, quickly rushed to the kitchen to get them some water, while Rose stood a bit further away, holding the baby in her arms.

"Now," Scar said, beckoning both men to sit down by the table in the centre of the room, "Are you sure about what you said? That you were attacked by talking animals?"

The shorter of the two men nodded. "They just blocked the main street, surrounding us completely. Then the largest of those dog-like creatures just gave the others to attack us without mercy. We were the only ones to escape."

Ed clenched his jaw, understanding what the Liorite was talking about: Chimeras. And if they had the ability to speak, it meant the military managed to take Shou Tucker's research further. That was something that sickened the teen alchemist to no end.

"Was anyone with them, controlling them?" Lyra asked at that moment as she returned with two cups of water in her hands.

"Yes," the taller one replied in an agitated tone. "A military man who can make you explode simply by touching you."

Scar stiffened, looking at the Liorite incredulously. "You _saw_ that man?"

Lyra raised an eyebrow at that, surprised at Scar's reaction. "Is something wrong?"

Scar didn't bother answering her though. He simply faced Rose, a look of determination in his eyes.

"The chimeras and the man must be a scouting party. You can be sure that the bulk of the army will come and attack soon enough," he said. "That's why you will all leave through the underground passage when that happens."

Ed was sure what Rose asked as she looked so fearfully at the Ishbalan.

_What about you?_

"I'll take care of matters here," Scar said cryptically, then quickly turned around and headed toward Ed's room. Ed quickly retreated and lied down on the bed again, thus giving the impression he was sleeping. At the next moment, the door opened and Scar stepped in.

"Fullmetal Alchemist?"

Ed pushed himself in a sitting position and regarded Scar curiously. He just hoped Scar didn't realise Ed overheard the whole conversation.

"You said you wanted to help this city, so here's your chance," the Ishbalan said, pointing at Rose and Lyra. "Help them guide the Liorites to safety."

"I will," Ed promised.

Scar nodded a bit, clearly accepting the teen alchemist's answer. Casting one last look at Rose and Lyra, he placed the hood over his head once more and walked out the door.

Rose took a step forward as though to stop Scar from leaving. But Ed proved quicker as he walked at her side and placed an arm on her shoulder.

"Come on, Rose… Lyra."

Both women complied after a moment of hesitation. Lyra, however, didn't take her eyes off Ed, almost piercing him through with her look.

"So… you chose sides," she said softly, making sure the other Liorites didn't hear her as they all headed out on the street.

"I chose nothing. I'd rather not have anyone else's death in my conscience if I can help it," Ed answered with a hiss. "As soon as you're out of harm's way, I'll go after Scar."

Rose gasped and stared at Ed, her eyes reflecting her disbelief and exasperation.

"Yes, Liore will be under martial law," Ed said, guessing what Rose was telling him. "If you want to hate someone, Rose, you might as well hate me. I may not like the military anymore than you do, but I'm still part of it. And I have friends in the military that are worth saving."

Rose turned her eyes away at that, not wishing to look at Ed anymore.

* * *

Archer stood by the window of one of the tallest buildings the Amestris military had captured while the war still ranged, looking with quite the pleased expression at the hordes of soldiers, alchemists and tanks that assembled on the street below.

"Behold, your Excellency!" he declared proudly, knowing that the Führer was in the room and listening. "Over 7,000 men have gathered to crush Liore at your command!"

Bradley sipped some of his tea in silence, as though he was performing some kind of ritual. Roy and Armstrong watched him closely, waiting with bated breath to hear what his next words would be.

"Yes, without a doubt, Colonel Archer," the Führer finally said. "However, I must also decide now that we should delay the assault."

"What?" Archer exclaimed before he could help it and span around, his face the epitome of shock.

Bradley, on the other hand, didn't seem in the least fazed. He just placed the cup of tea down on a small table and knitted his fingers. "According to Colonel Mustang, Sergeant Beregond, a soldier of great potential I may add, infiltrated Liore with young Alphonse Elric in the hopes of rescuing the Fullmetal Alchemist without causing further provocation." He paused and faced Archer, a small enigmatic smile on his lips. "We might still be able to compromise peacefully with Liore."

Archer clenched his hands into fists. "It's too late for that!"

"You don't know Sergeant Beregond then," Mustang said, locking his gaze on Archer. The Flame Alchemist could tell only too clearly that the other man was furious.

"With all due respect, Sir, you know we can't attack without a reason," Armstrong added. "We'll have to wait and see if the covert operation proves successful."

Archer didn't saying anything more. He simply tightened his jaw, casting an angry glare both at Roy and Armstrong; a glare full of hatred.

* * *

Booming sounds reverberated throughout the streets, and dozens of people tried to run as fast as they could in the hopes of escaping the death that was following in the form of a single man, clothed in military garments. Yet wherever they ran, the alchemist simply touched the ground and caused one explosion after the other amid fits of manic laughter.

"Is that the best you can do?" Kimblee exclaimed, watching the people fleeing like frightened animals. "Even your Ishbalan buddies put up more of a fight than this, and that isn't saying much!"

He placed his hands on a wall, and the wall shattered to a thousand pieces. Blood-curdling screams filled the air, but Kimblee simply snorted cruelly.

"Pathetic."

"Wait," one of the dog-like chimeras that followed Kimblee closely behind said at that moment. "There's something in the air."

"Oh?" Kimblee said. He looked to his left and, sure enough, he spotted the silhouette of a robed man, standing in the middle of the road.

"Your kill?" the chimera asked, the hairs on the back of his head already standing up.

The alchemist chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "No. Go have your fun."

The chimera didn't have to be told twice. Howling as a signal to attack, he charged with the rest of the pack against the robed man, the prospect of the kill nearly blinding him. So he didn't notice the red flash of light that surrounded the man's left arm until it was too late.

The first chimera that lunged at the man fell down with a yelp, blood gushing out of his head and staining the ground. Three more shared the first one's fate, their heads exploding from the inside as Scar touched them one by one, and, soon enough, the whole pack was lying dead at his feet.

Kimblee witnessed the one-sided battle with crossed arms and did nothing. He simply smiled as the man approached him.

"Finally, an opponent that seems worthy of my time. I do hope your warm-up was sufficient though, since I don't intend to go easy on you," he said, exposing his tattooed palms.

Scar gritted his teeth as he noticed the alchemic circles that had haunted his dreams for the last eight years. "So it's really you… Crimson Alchemist."

Kimblee raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "I'm glad to see my reputation precedes me, but I don't know who…" he stopped midway, for it was then that he noticed Scar's face. His smile broadened as his memories caught up with him. "Ah… I remember now. That scar was one of my masterpieces." His gaze drifted on the Ishbalan's left arm. "No wonder I didn't recognise you at first. I'm sure I had blown up your arm too."

Scar still walked towards Kimblee, his eyes never leaving the Amestrian. "It was given to me so I can revenge the State Alchemists. You will have the honour of being the last one I kill!"

"How nice of you to say that," Kimblee replied, hardly fazed. "Pity that I also have _this!_" In the blink of an eye, he raised his right hand, revealing a ring with a red stone on his ring finger. The ring flashed brightly but, before Kimblee could perform any alchemy, it dissolved into thin air. Scar cried out in pain and dropped on his knees, his arm glowing red as it received the power of the stone.

Kimblee watched the scene intrigued, trying to understand what the meaning of it all was. However, everything fell into place when he noticed the tattoo on the Ishbalan's arm.

"Well, well… following your brother's footsteps, I see," he commented with a chuckle. "In order to revenge the State Alchemists, you became what you hated."

Scar clenched his hands into fists at those words. Composing himself, he slowly got back on his feet and faced Kimblee once more.

"It's a small price to pay," he said, his tone icy cold. "For I shall have you feel my _brother's _hatred!"

And with that, he lunged for the attack.

* * *

Bradley stood in front of the same window Archer was standing barely half an hour ago, watching with interest in the direction of Liore. Though it was too far away for any human to see anything but the buildings under the moonlight, Pride's Ultimate Eye enabled him to see the explosions and the destruction Kimblee caused. He didn't even turn at the sound of a door opening, nor at the sound of a dress shuffling on the carpet as a woman walked in. He knew who walked in, and he was aware of the temper she was in.

"Why did you delay the assault?" the seductive tone was now harsh and angry.

"What are you unsatisfied with, Lust?" Pride asked, still looking at the horizon.

"You dare ask?" she exclaimed. "Scar is waiting for the army to make its move. It's with their lives that he can create the philosopher's stone. You know you have to send your troops now, and yet you've done no such thing!"

"The Elric boys and Sergeant Beregond are somewhere in Liore."

"One more reason we should act now!" Lust said. "If they find Scar, there won't be any philosopher's stone!"

Pride shook his head. "It looks to me that, in your desire to get the stone, you have forgotten your master's wishes. She may risk losing one of the three, but not all of them. Her word is absolute."

"What are you saying?" Lust could hardly believe her ears. "We wanted them alive in case we could manipulate _them_ to create the stone. We don't need them anymore!"

"So… you dare defy her?" Pride faced the female homunculus, no expression on his features. "Do you hate being a Homunculus so much? At least you live, and you live thanks to her. Remember that."

"And yet she promised us a better life! That was why she had us search for the philosopher's stone in the first place." She turned around and walked toward the exit. "Gluttony and I are going back to Liore. Someone has to make sure Scar fulfils his goal."

"You can go if you wish, but Gluttony stays here." Pride said. "Her orders."

Lust opened her mouth to voice her objections but she stopped. She knew it would be no use arguing with Pride or with her master for that matter. So, all she could do was leave, jaw clenched tightly.

* * *

"Brother! Brother!"

Yet Alphonse didn't get an answer, just like he didn't get one in the last half hour he had been searching. Clenching his hands into fists in his frustration, the suit of armour hurried to another dark street, calling out to Edward again.

It was then, however, that a terrible explosion sounded too close for comfort, shaking everything around him. A wall to his left crumbled as if it was made of paper, revealing two men locked in fierce combat. Al gasped, for the men were fighting with no other weapons than their own alchemic power, and the light of the alchemic reactions shone brightly on the faces of both Kimblee and Scar.

Another explosion made Al flinch, and he instantly took cover. Neither the State Alchemist nor the Ishbalan seemed to notice what was going on around them. Their eyes were fixed on each other, hatred written on their features as they fought and argued.

"You realise that the military is already making its move while you're chasing me. Is that all right with you, Ishbalan?"

There was a flash of red light as Scar tried to grab Kimblee. "It is you who should be worried about the military, Crimson Alchemist. Their lives will be forfeited the moment they step in Liore!"

This time, Al crouched and moved closer. This had to stop, and he knew how he was going to do it.

"All this for some petty revenge. How foolish," Kimblee commented in contempt.

"No more foolish than your reasons for killing Ishbalans!"

"Is that what you think? That I care to what race you belong? You're a bigger fool than I thought!" Kimblee exclaimed, guffawing loudly. "Humans, _all _humans, are nothing more than empty shells that serve as nice bombs to me. That's all there is to it."

"Then you have no idea what a human really is," Al said, finally coming out of his cover. The two men turned around in surprise, certainly not expecting a suit of armour clapping his hands and placing them on the ground. In seconds, a stony statue sprang out of the ground and grabbed Kimblee from behind.

Kimblee didn't try to fight back. He simply looked at Al, a look of intrigue reflected in his eyes.

"So… another alchemist joins the fight," he noted. "It was about time things became more challenging around here."

"You're not an alchemist! You're a murderer!" Al said, hardly looking at Kimblee. He faced Scar instead, standing before him to make one question only.

"Where is my brother?"

Scar held up his glowing arm. "Stand aside, Alphonse Elric. This fight is not your concern."

"No! There has been enough killing!" the suit of armour said, not moving. "How many more must die before you finally decide to stop?"

If Scar ever meant to answer, he never got the chance. Kimblee used his alchemy to blow up the statue that kept him in place, then lunged forward. Before Alphonse could react, Kimblee pushed him away and grabbed Scar by the right arm tightly. A flash of yellow light later, the right arm was dead and blackened at the Ishbalan's side.

Kimblee laughed in triumph. "It is over, Ishbalan! Can you hear the ticking of the countdown to your death?"

Al gasped, for he realised what Kimblee did. Scar had become a bomb as well.

"No!" He got ready to clap his hands again, hoping to save Scar while there was still time, but Kimblee grabbed him by the arms.

"What? You think I've forgotten about you?" he asked with a smirk. "Your metal body will make such a beautiful booming sound when I'm finished with you."

But Al was hardly paying attention to Kimblee anymore. He watched in shock as Scar grabbed his blackened arm with his left hand, destroying it from the very socket; then used his glowing red arm to pierce Kimblee's heart through and through.

Kimblee's eyes widened, blood spilt out of his mouth. And as his life slowly ebbed away, he turned around to stare at Scar.

"Look closely at this empty shell, Crimson Alchemist," Scar said, covered in his own blood. "It has just killed you." And with that, he let Kimblee drop on the ground.

Kimblee was already dead by the time of the impact, his eyes glazed and cold.

Al didn't move, he didn't think he could. Everything was quiet now, and nothing disturbed the stillness of the night except for the blood gushing out of Scar's arm-socket.

A minute passed, then two… then Scar turned on his heel and started walking away.

"Scar!"

The Ishbalan kept walking, not looking back at the suit of armour.

"Go find your brother, Alphonse Elric. And when you do… leave as fast as you can."

And with that, the darkness of the streets consumed him out of sight.

* * *

Ed held up the torch higher in order to light the dark passage for the people that were following him closely behind. Whispers and murmurs reached his ears as someone said that they should all head back and face the military, whereas another argued that they shouldn't go against the Holy Mother's wishes.

He turned when he heard Lyra's voice to his right. She was sitting with Rose on a small pedestal nearby, and she was obviously saying something that troubled the mute girl; she was holding her baby closer to herself, rocking it gently. Ed moved closer to see what the problem was.

"Rose, you know what's going to happen if the military catches up with us. That's why Scar had to leave. We'll need the philosopher's stone."

_This again?_ Ed thought wryly. He was positively growing sick of it and he didn't intend to hide it anymore.

"Stop it, Lyra," he said, glaring at her. "I'll deal with the military."

Though she certainly didn't expect Ed to join the conversation, she faced him with a hopeless expression on her face. "You might try, but will you succeed?" She shook her head. "Then the cities will hear about the military's atrocities in Liore."

"That won't happen," Ed replied. "They'll only remember how a city was destroyed in an attempt to create the philosopher's stone." And with that he turned back to guiding the people through the passage, not noticing Lyra's angered look in her eyes. He froze in his tracks, however, when he heard a strange rumbling sound getting closer. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that it was… water?

People screamed at the sight of a river rushing to their direction and they tried to run away. The river proved faster as it engulfed several Liorites in its wet prison, only to rise up and form a wall, thus blocking the exit.

Ed clenched his jaw. He didn't know how or why; nevertheless, he suspected who was behind this attack.

"Rose, Lyra, get out of here!" he cried and quickly clapped his hands. In seconds, his automail arm was transformed into a blade which Ed held up, ready to use it at the sight of the first homunculus.

"I've been waiting for you, kid."

Ed raised an eyebrow. He knew that voice, yet he never thought that he'd hear it here of all places. Sure enough though, a black shape sprang out of the great wall of water and landed gracefully on the ground. Ed watched the boy that he had found in Dublith walk up to him with the poise of a deadly assassin, clothed in black and his violet eyes piercing and cruel, and he now knew that everything happened as Izumi feared.

"So… you actually remember, Homunculus," he said.

The boy smirked. "The name's Wrath. And you're right, I do remember it all." In a flash, he placed his hand on the ground and transmuted it into a stony fist. Seeing what was happening, Ed lunged forward to push Wrath away, but it was too late. The homunculus used the stony fist to block Ed's automail, then hit him on the face. Ed staggered backwards, only to find himself pinned against the wall Wrath staring at him in triumph.

"It's ironic, isn't it? To meet again after all this time?" Wrath asked. "It seems only yesterday that I was sitting in the absolute darkness of the Gate, growing stronger as I waited for an idiot to drop by. One who kept screaming and crying 'Give me back my little brother!'" He chuckled. "Pity I only took your arm and leg back then."

"Well, look at it from the bright side," Ed said, clenching his jaw. "I can do this now!" In a heartbeat, he used his automail leg to knee the homunculus on the stomach, then used his automail blade to slash Wrath's chest.

"Oh, and here's some news flash for you. I know your weak point, homunculus. My teacher has told me about it. You paralyse at the sight of a part that belonged to your previous body. You're fakes so, when you see the real thing, you cower in fear." He planted his feet firmly on the ground, ready to attack again. "I guess the secret's out now."

Wrath chuckled. "Then I'm quite safe, kid. It was my _own _body that was used at the failed human transmutation after my dear mother miscarried. But... if there's one body I want in order to become human… " Without taking his eyes off Ed, he touched the ground to transmute an iron lance as a weapon, "…It's yours!"

The words barely escaped Wrath's lips when the sound of a baby wailing filled the air. Wrath froze, eyes widened in shock. Ed looked back to see what was going on.

Rose was coming closer, the baby in her arms.

"Damn it, Rose! I told you to get out of here!"

She shook her head and walked on, the baby still crying.

Wrath closed his eyes. His hands tightened around the lance in an attempt to stop them from trembling.

"Shut it up…" he said softly, but it was to no avail. The baby's cries only grew stronger until they became unbearable. "SHUT IT UP!" Blinded by rage, Wrath wielded the lance and attacked Rose.

"NO!" Ed quickly jumped between Wrath and Rose and thrust the automail blade on the homunculus' chest. Though Wrath cried out in pain and fell lifeless on the ground, the young alchemist knew that it was hardly over. He faced Rose, who kept staring at the scene.

"Rose, listen to me!" he cried. "You were just used by Scar. You don't have to die here! You know that!"

She looked at him in confusion, then at Wrath.

"Rose!"

She looked back at Ed.

"Even if you don't care what happens to you… think of the baby."

It was enough. Holding her son closer to her arms, she turned around and ran away, sparing only one look towards Ed. Ed didn't say anything else though. He just watched her go with relief, knowing that he had at least saved her.

"Ed?"

His heart missed a beat, he thought his ears played tricks on him. He quickly turned around, and watched in horror as the great wall of water changed shape, becoming more humanoid. Until, finally, it took the shape of a woman with brown hair and green eyes. She looked like Colonel Douglas, and yet Ed knew it wasn't her. It couldn't be.

She smiled, looking at him in the same loving way that Ed remembered. Yet her voice was wounded when she asked in a soft tone:

"Why couldn't you make me right, Ed?"

Ed couldn't answer though. He kept staring at her, numbing shock crawling up his spine. His legs buckled underneath him and he fell on his knees. Memories of the monster that he created back in the basement of his home poisoned his mind and he couldn't move. Not even when Wrath regenerated himself and he picked up the iron lance, or even when he stood behind him, ready to run the lance right through him.

Not even at the sound of the cold, childlike chuckle as the homunculus got ready for the kill.

"Time to pay up, kid."


	45. Last Moments

Wrath lifted the lance higher, ready to run it through Ed's heart. It was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment that the hapless fool's whole body would finally be his and he could be human forever. He licked his lips, almost tasting his triumph, then looked up at Sloth.

She simply nodded in his direction, giving her consent with a look of pride that every mother reserved for a son. Wrath's fangs glinted in the darkness of the passage as he chuckled cruelly.

"Time to pay up, kid."

But it was then that his lance reddened as if exposed to scorching heat, blistering Wrath's hands and making the homunculus cry out in pain. Sloth gasped, watching the lance melt into unrecognisable pulp and dripping on Wrath's face, the unbearable smell of burning flesh filling the air.

"Wrath!" She quickly embraced him protectively her water-like hands caressing his scarred face to soothe away the pain until it was finally regenerated to its former shape.

Wrath took a deep breath to compose himself once more. He glared at Ed, thinking that the teen alchemist was responsible for it all, but Ed hadn't move even an inch. He was still on his knees, frozen, eyes wide and locked in the void.

Then who was it?

"Leave. Now."

So. There was someone else in the passage. Wrath turned around, his jaw clenching as he got ready to attack the idiot who decided to interfere.

His anger was replaced by horror, however, when he saw that it was a tall man whose green-hazel eyes glinted in just fury. A silver sword shone in his hands as he boldly stepped closer to the two monsters, ready to plunge it to any one of them that dared attack first.

"It… it… can't be…" Wrath whispered. The last time he had seen that face was…

Suddenly, memories from the Gate flooded his mind, reminding him of the darkness where the dead lingered. Where, every single day of his existence in a place that time didn't matter, he would watch the bright presence of a soul sleeping on peacefully, untouched by the snake-like hands that ruled the Gate as though it was something sacred – even feared.

Sloth, however, wasn't aware of Wrath's memories. Her lips simply tugged to a ghost of a smile, and she regarded Beregond with evident contempt.

"You shouldn't have come here, Sergeant." As her arms liquefied once more, water surrounded the man from everywhere, ready to enclose him into a watery tomb. But Beregond evaporated the water into thin air with a single wave of his hand.

"You can't drown me. Not for as long as I can keep vaporising the water," He held up his sword in a defensive position again, moving even closer. "I suggest you leave."

Sloth didn't move, but Wrath staggered backwards, a murmuring mantra on his lips.

"Keep away…"

The sergeant's eyes now seemed ablaze, very much like a lion's that was ready to tear its enemy's throat. "I SAID LEAVE!"

It was all Wrath could take. Before Sloth knew what was going on, the young homunculus ran away, screaming and crying like a terrified child that saw a ghost. She stared at him incredulously, then at Beregond, wishing to understand what had just happened.

He just stared at her coldly. "I'm waiting."

She finally ran after Wrath.

* * *

Even though he could no longer see either of the homunculi, Beregond didn't lower his sword yet. For all he knew, they could come back when he least expected it, recovered from their initial shock. It was strange that the smaller homunculus got so frightened of him, but Beregond wasn't about to question matters.

A few more minutes passed in silence. Meanwhile, Ed remained where he was, unmoving, as if he didn't know that the Gondorian was there. Feeling worried now, Beregond decided to sheath his sword and walk up to the young alchemist.

He sighed when he saw the look of terror on the boy's features. He didn't know how or why, but it seemed what Beregond feared the most happened; now Ed was paying the price for not heeding Beregond's warning. He gently touched Ed's flesh shoulder, for he didn't wish to startle the young alchemist in that state.

"Pân mae, Edward. Nuitho i del lín," (It's all right, Ed. Still your fear.)

For a moment, Beregond thought that Ed didn't hear him. But then, slowly, the amber-coloured eyes locked their gaze on Beregond, and a spark of recognition flashed in them. Even so, Ed didn't speak at once; and when he did, his tone was just a murmur.

"You were right."

"I wish I weren't," Beregond replied truthfully. "What happened, Edward?"

The boy lifted his head weakly and pointed in the direction the homunculi had left.

"She used to be our mother."

Beregond bit his lower lip. He _was _surprised to find out that Colonel Douglas was a homunculus, but that she was once Trisha Elric? That was indeed a cruel blow to Edward.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Ed shook his head and pushed himself wearily back on his feet. Though his shock was slowly ebbing away, Beregond could still see the lines of sadness on the young face. The Gondorian opened his mouth to speak, but Ed beat him to it.

"I know it's not her," he said softly. "I just… wasn't ready to face her yet."

Beregond nodded his understanding, something that made Ed smile, albeit wanly.

"So… uh…How did you find me?"

Beregond knew that that was an attempt on changing the subject. Even so, he decided to indulge Ed.

"A boy told me about the evacuation," he explained. "I figured you would help the Liorites."

"Oh." Ed tensed, remembering himself. "Right. You better find Scar. I'll make sure the rest of the Liorites are out and, as soon as I'm done, I'll find Al so we can destroy the transmutation circle."

"All right," Beregond said. "Do you know where Scar is?"

"At the centre of Liore, near an abandoned temple."

"Temple?" Beregond echoed before he could help it.

"Yeah," Ed said, his voice much stronger now. "Now go."

Beregond didn't have to be told again. He ran off as fast as his feet would carry him, hoping that he would find Scar before history repeated itself on _this_ side of the Gate too.

Little did he know that a young woman watched him and Ed from the shadows, a curious smile settled on her features and the silver blade of a knife glistening in her hands.

* * *

"The resemblance to William Brice _is _uncanny."

'Rose' snorted, cradling the restless baby in her arms. "I'll take your word for it. I haven't met him." She cursed under her breath as the baby still squirmed as though to get away from her grasp. "I thought you said the runt wouldn't tell the difference!" she exclaimed, a tint of violet flashing in her brown eyes.

"You're holding him too tightly," Lyra stated coldly, discarding the knife beside the lifeless body of the real Rose. The unfortunate girl was tossed in the shadows, her throat slit open and her body covered in her own blood. "I suggest you handle your charge with better care. He's useful, after all."

"More useful than the Fullmetal shrimp?" Envy asked, his look all but piercing Lyra. "We had agreed that he's _my _kill, not Sloth or Wrath's!"

"I haven't forgotten," Lyra answered, dusting her dress in a casual manner. "I would have stopped them myself if the Gondorian hadn't intervened."

Envy shifted his arms, trying to hold the baby more securely. "Then why did you let them go _that _far?"

Lyra chuckled. "To draw _him _out, of course." She placed a hand on the baby's head, caressing it in a soothing manner. In a few moments, the baby calmed down, something that made the woman smile. "If he loves his sons, this attempt on their life is certain to shake him. And when that happens, he'll finally decide to face me."

"And then what?" Envy asked, his tone resembling a low growl.

Lyra's eyes reflected the woman's determination.

"I'll remind him what he foolishly gave up."

* * *

When Colonel Archer heard Bradley announce that he would revoke the order to attack Liore, he walked out the room with the excuse that he wanted to make arrangements so that the Fuhrer's new orders were carried out. The truth was that he had gone into the basement of the building, where the chimeras that he had authorised to use for military purposes were locked up. The mindless beasts watched the angered man curiously, for he paced up and down the room as though he was caged himself.

"Does it really take that much time to find the Fullmetal Alchemist's body?" Archer exclaimed in his frustration. "Are they fighting Liorites, or do they just enjoy destroying the whole place?"

None of the chimeras answered, of course, while Archer became only angrier. He landed a fist on a wall and cried out, shouting that he couldn't wait anymore.

It was then that the door to the basement opened again. Archer turned around, only to see Roy Mustang walking in, followed closely behind by Lieutenant Hawkeye, Major Armstrong and Major Moser.

The Flame Alchemist looked at the miserable surroundings with mild curiosity, his left hand in his pocket. "So… is this where you've been hiding, Archer? It seems fitting, for some reason."

If looks could kill, Roy would have been dead on the spot. "What are you doing here, Mustang?" Archer asked, not bothering to hide the venom from his voice.

"To find these," Moser answered, pointing to a small table behind Archer. Indeed, even under this dim light, one could see the eerie glint of several red stones on the wooden surface, along with a couple of a State Alchemists' watches. "These are the stones that you've told me about, right, Major Armstrong?"

"Indeed," Armstrong answered, nodding slowly.

"It looks like history is repeating itself," Riza noted softly.

"I'd say so, Lieutenant Hawkeye," Roy said. He stepped closer to Archer, his gaze piercing and merciless. "Did Bradley authorise this too, Archer?"

"Why don't you ask your stool pigeon, Mustang? It looks like he has told you enough already," Archer answered. He faced the burly man, his hands clenched tight into fists. "What's the matter, Major? Did you suddenly decide I was too bad of an influence for you?"

"I never followed you in the first place," Armstrong answered, his expression neutral, even cold. "To find dirt, you sometimes have to crawl in the mud."

Archer's upper lip curled in distaste. "Noble to the bone, like always, Major. But, unfortunately for you, this is the army."

Before Roy or anyone else had the time to react, Archer pulled a switch and the cages sprang open. The chimeras blinked in surprise at the loud banging sound at first, but then, as Archer blew a whistle, they immediately stepped out and rushed to his side.

"What do you think you're doing?" Roy asked, staring at the scene in disbelief.

Archer chuckled cruelly as he stepped carefully towards the exit. "You were already glorified as hero once, Flame Alchemist. Now it's my turn to shine." He paused for a moment by the threshold, then gave his chimeras one order only.

"Kill them."

Roy tried to lunge at Archer to stop him from leaving, but it was of no use. Just as the chimeras sprang for the kill, Archer rushed outside, locking the door behind him.

* * *

Bradley was no longer in his office. In fact, Gluttony was the only one occupying the room, and the homunculus was wringing his hands in a nervous manner.

"Why isn't Lust here?" he whimpered softly to himself. She wanted the female homunculus because he was afraid he might do something wrong. As long as Lust was with him, telling him what to do, he knew that he was doing okay and then his mistress wouldn't get angry.

"Lust…" Unsure what to do, he walked up to the window and looked inside. His hands pressed against the glass, and he squinted his beady eyes to watch the military activity down on the ground.

He blinked. The soldiers were restless, crying to one another and grabbing their weapons. A tall man was even barking out orders that they should march to Liore now.

Gluttony bit his lower lip. This wasn't supposed to happen, was it? Pride ordered that the soldiers shouldn't attack. With that thought, Gluttony turned around to find Pride and tell him about what's been going on.

He stopped in his tracks at once, because it was then that he remembered Pride's _other_ order.

_You're to stay here and not to leave under any circumstances._

"Lust…"

Now, more than ever, Gluttony wished she was there with him.

* * *

He could no longer feel the pain in his missing arm. His steps grew heavy and weary as his legs weakened, ready to buckle underneath him. Nevertheless, Scar forged on, his eyes locked forward and all kinds of thoughts filling his mind.

He had to put an end to what started more than seven years ago; he knew this. It was the only way he would finally find peace at least.

It didn't take him long to reach to the centre of Liore, to the centre of his transmutation circle. He was surprised, however, when he saw someone else already standing there, her long black dress swaying at the wind's whim.

"You came," she said, her voice so much like _hers, _yet her eyes violet and cold. "For a moment I believed the alchemists got the better of you."

Scar grunted, glaring at the form that he had loved so much at another time. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled. "Isn't it obvious? I'm making sure so one will stop you from creating the philosopher's stone." She regarded him thoughtfully. "Isn't that what you want? To punish the people responsible for the destruction of your race?"

Scar bowed his head. "And yet does it ever end?"

Lust's eyes widened at this. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Scar fell on his knees, unable to stand any longer. "A boy asked me how many more must die before I decide to stop. There was a time that I thought I could answer that question, but now I realise that no matter how many I kill, it will never be enough." He heaved a sigh. "So I might as well stop now."

Lust stiffened, looking at Scar incredulously.

"You won't do it?" Her fingers extended, ready to pierce Scar through. "Not if I…!"

"Stay there!"

The homunculus did as she was told, but not on her own accord. Scar was now holding in his remaining hand the locket that contained another woman's strand of hair; hair very much like Lust's.

Scar watched the homunculus paralyse, a saddened expression settling on his features. "The Fullmetal Alchemist was right. You really aren't her."

Lust trembled in her attempt to move, a film of sweat forming on her brow. "No, I'm not," she answered, her voice strained. "But… if you created the stone… and I were to become human… wouldn't it be the same?"

"No. I can't bring back what's dead," Scar said, his tone softening as his life-force ebbed away. "But, there _is _something I can do."

"And what is that?" she asked, though she already suspected the answer.

"Meet her… in Ishbala's bosom." He closed his eyes, and his fingers loosened their grip on the locket. "A man who inflicts suffering can't rest. His guilty mind won't allow it. But today… I can finally close my eyes to the living nightmare and lie down, knowing that I won't wake up again. Brother..."

With that final word flowing out of his lips, the Ishbalan fell down, covered in his own blood. Lust remained still as though rooted on the spot, unable to walk away; unable to do anything but watch him die.

A set of footsteps echoed in the silence, and Lust turned her gaze to her left.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, recognising the Gondorian.

Beregond walked closer, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword as it stayed buckled on his side. "Long enough." He knelt beside Scar and opened the fingers to free the locket so he could put it around the dead man's neck.

"Then tell me why he didn't do it."

Beregond smiled, albeit sadly, as he smoothed away the lines of pain that clung on the dark-skinned face. "He knew he was dying."

"I still don't understand!" she all but shouted.

Beregond placed the remaining arm across his shoulders, then scooped the body of the Ishbalan in his arms. "In these last moments, he loved life more than he ever had before. Not just his life, but anyone's life. Even his enemy's." He turned on his heel and started walking away.

"What about _my _life, Gondorian?" Lust asked in exasperation. "All I wanted was to be human!"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, sparing a brief glance of pity in her direction.

"Then you can start by acting like one."

He didn't wait to see the confused expression on her face. He just resumed walking, holding Scar's body.

* * *

Ed guided a mother with her child through the tunnel, relieved to see them go. He turned his gaze to every direction to make sure no one was left behind, but the place was empty. He couldn't even find any sign of Rose or Lyra anywhere, so the teen alchemist could only suppose that the two girls had already joined the rest of the Liorites.

It was just as well. He had to find Al, and he wanted to do it without distractions. So, he rushed back to the surface, welcoming the sickly light of pre-dawn after spending so many hours in the darkness of the tunnels. Everything was quiet, almost peaceful, and Ed wanted to believe for a moment that he wasn't caught in the middle of a raging war. But he knew that he was wishing for too much.

"Brother!"

Ed turned around at the sound of that voice. It was indeed Alphonse, and he was now running up to him.

"Al…"

"Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" the suit of armour chided him, but he didn't expect an answer. He merely grabbed Ed by the wrist. "Come on, we have to go! Beregond said that the military will attack the city at dawn!"

"I know that," Ed replied quietly, but he didn't budge. "That's why we have to make sure that they don't get used as ingredients for the philosopher's stone."

"But how?" Al asked. "If Scar uses the transmutation circle…"

A ghost of a smile appeared on the young alchemist's lips. "He can't use what has been erased."

Al stared at Ed incredulously, unsure what to make of that statement. Nevertheless, he followed his brothers through the streets of Liore, until they reached its outskirts. And when they arrived there, Edward locked his gaze on the suit of armour, the fire of determination burning in his eyes.

"Let's go for it, Al."

Al finally understood. After nodding his acknowledgement, both brothers clapped their hands and then placed them firmly on the ground, thus starting another kind of alchemical reaction.

* * *

Armstrong grabbed another chimera by its tail and span it around, making sure it hit the wall with a loud thud. Roy, on the other hand, used his flames to incinerate two chimeras that lunged at him and Riza. She hardly remained though. She rapidly fired at one beast that attacked Moser, for he was too busy throwing daggers at two more. The daggers embedded on the chimeras' skin without killing them, but when Moser activated an array etched on a brace on his left arm, they were both changed to stone.

The growls and yelps died down at last and the place grew quiet once more. Everyone's gaze drifted to all directions; they didn't want any more unwelcome surprises. All they could see, however, were the corpses of the chimeras, lying scattered all about.

"I don't understand," Moser said, his eyes still locked on the chimeras. "Why would Archer try to kill us? There was no way he could get away with that."

"That's why he wasn't trying to kill us," Roy said, dusting his gloves. "He only wanted to slow us down long enough till he accomplished what he wanted."

"Do you think he's already rallied the troops for the attack?" Armstrong asked.

"We'll just have to find out," Roy said. He nodded in Riza's direction. "Lieutenant."

Riza didn't have to be told twice. She fired at the lock and kicked the door open with a loud bang. Everyone rushed outside, dismayed to see that the corridors were empty. It meant Archer had already given the order to the troops to march to Liore.

"Boss!"

Roy turned around at the sound of that voice. The second lieutenant was indeed there, his gun in his hands, and he was followed close behind by Breda, Falman and Fuery.

"It's a good thing we found you, Sir," Fuery said, his relief quite audible in his tone. "Colonel Archer ordered all the soldiers to prepare for an assault to the city!"

"Are they gone?" Roy asked, keeping his temper in check.

"They left half an hour ago," Havoc answered.

Roy clenched his jaw at those words. "Then we're too late."

Just then, Breda saw something that made him point to the window behind Roy. "Maybe not, Sir. Look."

Unsure what to make of those words, Roy stepped close to the window. Everyone else followed him and looked outside as well.

They could hardly believe their eyes at the sight that was unfolded before them. Most of the troops were already at the borders of Liore, but Liore itself could no longer be seen. A cloud of sand had risen up in the air, shielding the city and covering everything that dared come too close. Some of the jeeps were sunk in mounds of sand, unable to move forward or retreat.

"What is this?" Moser asked before he could help it.

"It looks like Edward has intervened here," Riza noted.

Roy allowed himself the luxury of a smile. "I'd say so. Way to go, Fullmetal."

None of the soldiers that were close to the sand cloud shared Roy's opinion. When they saw the great mass moving towards their direction, they ran as quickly as they could amid shouts of panic and fear. And when Archer shouted orders and threats to the soldiers to turn back, he was simply swallowed by the grains of sand.

By the time the first light of day bathed the desolate battlefield, everything was silent.

* * *

As he felt silence surrounding him, Ed opened his eyes and saw the sand covering almost all of Liore like a warm cloak. He could no longer see the transmutation circle, for it was wiped out during the sandstorm he had caused.

"It's over," the teen alchemist whispered.

"Yeah."

Ed faced Alphonse. The suit of armour was standing next to him, looking also at the half-buried city. The broad shoulders were slumped forward, an unreadable expression reflected in his eyes.

"You okay, Al?" Ed asked gently.

"More like relieved," Al admitted before turning to Ed. "And you, Brother?"

Ed allowed himself the luxury of a small smile. "I'm fine. I know we had the philosopher's stone within our grasp but… I feel we did the right thing."

Al let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah… Me too."

Though he was glad at that answer, Ed couldn't feel happy for long. Dark thoughts entered his mind once more, making his heart sink.

"Al… there's at least more thing we have to do."

Al stiffened and regarded his brother apprehensively. "What is it?"

Ed bowed his head, his blond bangs hiding his eyes.

"Correct our mistake."

A small gasped escaped the suit of armour. "You mean…? Mom…?"

Ed just nodded. It was enough as an answer.

"But that means we'll have to go to Resembool," Al pointed out. "What if the Homunculi come after us there?"

"We'll deal with it then," Ed replied. He turned on his heel and started walking away. "Come on, let's go."

Al stared at the retreating Ed incredulously. "Wait! What about the Colonel?"

"Forget about him, Al," Ed all but snapped. "We're though with the military."

"But he'll chase us!"

"I'd like to see him try."

"And Beregond?"

Ed stopped in his tracks, but he didn't look at his brother.

"He'll leave the military and find us in Resembool."

If Al noticed how uncertain Ed sounded when he said that, he certainly didn't show it. Seeing as his older brother couldn't be talked out of his decision, the suit of armour simply followed.

* * *

The sun was already high up in the sky dome when Roy found Beregond. The Gondorian had his back to him and was kneeling in the centre of an alchemised rock formation, his face and clothes specked with grains of sand. He seemed calm as he kept staring at the small mound before him, but Roy was aware that Beregond was simply paying his respects to the Ishbalan who was reverently buried there in spite of his crimes.

"They're gone, aren't they?"

Though Roy was surprised that Beregond noticed him, he didn't wonder about it for long; there were other, far more important things at present.

"Yes. Both of them."

Beregond stood up and faced Roy, an unreadable expression reflected in his green-hazel eyes.

"Then we'll find them."

**End of Part Three**

**To Be Concluded in Shamballa – Part 4 - Full Circle**


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